Happy Endings
by Magali1
Summary: A series of drabbles set in varying times with varying couples/characters. All mostly family oriented. There will be Matt/Julie; Jason Street; Tyra/Landry; Tim/Lyla; Eric/Tami and Billy/Mindy.
1. Together

A/N: This is a short story threaded together with drabbles. Each one exists in the same universe, but the times bounce around. A few are mostly set at Christmas, because well, it's Christmastime :) They're (kind of) chronological, but one in particular is set fairly far into the future. The others you can pick at any time after the show's ending, but all of them are set post-finale. They're mostly centered on couples, except for one. And the couples that I like and know how to write, LOL, there are some I wanted to include but I just don't feel comfortable writing those characters. Please let me know if you enjoy :) I've written tons of stories for other fandoms, but not many for FNL, which I am only getting back into after an entire series rewatch a few months ago. Enjoy!

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There's snow on the ground, when she climbs slowly out of the backseat of the car. "I'm fine," she laughs, when Matt grabs for her hands.

He shakes his head. "I know you're fine," he says, but he wants to make himself feel better and walks her off the icy pavement to the snowy grass. He leans in and carefully tugs the carrier from the backseat. "Okay, okay…do you think it's too cold?"

She giggles, shuffling in the snow with him, up to the front stoop. "Hey, let me have her, you go get my bag"

"Oh, yeah, the bag!" He runs back to the car, skidding in the slush and crashing into the car door. Ow. "I'm okay!"

"Of course you are!" She looks down into the carrier, barely able to see the baby's face from the soft fleece covering to keep her warm in the cold December air. She turns and he opens up the door, both of them fussing over her in the elevator. "I'm so ready to get her into her new bassinet," she says, walking down the hall of their loft building.

He pauses and smiles at her, hoping she likes his surprise. He tugs back the door to the studio/loft and steps aside. "Ta…da!"

"Nice surprise sound," she laughs, walking into the loft and setting the carrier down on the table. So what surprise is he talking about? She turns around. "What's the…oh…"

In the corner of the loft where they've set up her room, he's painted a mural. She walks over, reaching up to touch. Her name is written in a rainbow and there's a small little skyline of Chicago and then a field and… "Football?" she questions.

He shrugs. "Had to put that in there. Look, I put the important things to us." Books for her and an easel for him. He's also painted Winnie the Pooh characters, which her bedding and blankets are. If she had a full room, they'd put up wallpaper with Pooh Bear.

"It's beautiful," she whispers, blinking through tears, her fingers dragging over the name in the rainbow. He turns and lifts the baby out of the carrier, holding her against his arm. "She's so little."

Very little. He touches her tiny nose, the tiny face scrunching up. Maybe now he understands why his father-in-law was so against anything happening to his wife. He's pretty sure that he will never let her out of his sight.

She leans around him, her hand touching tiny Lorraine's hand. "I wish your grandmother was here to see her," she breathes.

He nods, willing the tears to go away. He takes a deep breath, slowly releasing it. "Yeah, but…she's watching us."

They're quiet for a minute and she giggles into his arm. "That's kind of creepy actually Matt."

"Yeah it is," he laughs, turning and touching his forehead to hers. They smile and he kisses her gently. "I love you Julie."

"I love you too," she whispers, kissing him one more time before reaching over to pick up Little Lorraine, who begins to cry. They both share a look. So it begins.


	2. Always

A/N: Two chapters today! I'll post another tomorrow and then the last two on Tuesday, to finish it out. I might have more, if I can think of proper continuations of each character's little story. I hope you all enjoy! Thanks for reading and for the reviews :)

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It's about time we can get on the same page, she thinks, standing in the big house in Austin, looking up at the rafters and the sub-zero fridge in the kitchen. She hears the realtor in the background, talking about the square footage and the previous owners…and other things she can't focus on right now.

Her arms hug her coat tighter to her and she looks down at the paper in her hands. His and her closets.

"So what do you think?" the realtor asks, standing there in the foyer, holding onto the book and the contracts, grinning wide. "Think you're going to make an offer?"

She looks around the kitchen again; she can see beyond to the patio, maybe with a set of iron tables and chairs and some Adirondack chairs for the front porch. It's a family house. It's older, it's in a family-friendly neighborhood, and it's close to the university…

His and her closets, she hears in the back of her head again.

He comes down from the upstairs. "Did you see those closets?" he asks, grinning at her. "His and her closets!"

"Yeah baby, his and her closets," she laughs, looking over at the realtor, who is shooting both of them a curious look. There are so many great features of this place, but they seem to be hung up on the closets. She plasters a smile on her face, asking sweetly. "Can we have a minute please?"

"Yes! Take your time, I'll be outside making some phone calls, just come get me when you're ready!"

They wait until she's gone and he reaches for her, hugging tight. He takes a deep breath, his eyes closing. Finally, things are coming to together. He feels her squeeze his shoulders lightly and pull back. "Well?" he whispers.

She grins. "His and her closets baby! We've been dreaming of that for years!"

That's not what he's talking about though and she knows it. She rubs her hands on his shoulders, biting her lower lip. Yes. We're going to do this. They've bother already decided even before flying down to Texas again.

"So we're really going to do this? Once we tell her, this is…this is for real." The university asked them, both of them, to come work here. Quarterback coach…dean of admissions…University of Texas. It just all seems to be coming back together.

Maybe a few years later than she wishes it would have.

She lifts her finger, warning. "Once we do this, we…we're done. This is it. This is our house. For good, Eric. No more moving, no more picking up Gracie Belle and dropping her from school to school…no more."

"We moved her once," he says under his breath, reaching to squeeze her hands, lifting her knuckles to his lips, smiling wide. "Yes. Let's do this Tami."

"Together?" she breathes.

He kisses her hard and fast. "Always."


	3. Friends

It's Christmas.

She's graduated, her stuff is in storage (for now) and she's got two bags in the cargo hold of the plane, one in the overhead bin, and another shoved beneath the seat in front of her. Her knuckles are white on the armrests, not because she's not used to flying (which she still isn't), but because she's going to Los Angeles.

They called her, she got a call. Months after graduating and terrified she's going to be stuck in a small-town forever, she gets a phone call.

So it's Christmas and she wakes up with her family and she tells everyone she's leaving that evening. They took her to the airport and held a sign telling her "Good Luck Tyra!" and she waved and kissed and hugged and cried until she couldn't stay any longer. It's time for a new life. It's time to leave.

The plane is still boarding and she holds the folder in her hand with the name of the autistic spectrum school on it. It's going to be amazing, she can feel it. Los Angeles. It's almost like stars in her eyes. She's leaving Dillon.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

She lifts her head, her eyes widening at the voice. "Oh."

He smiles down at her, gesturing to the window seat. She stands and he slides over, after putting the guitar case up in the overhead. He buckles the seatbelt and they sit in silence. "You know," he whispers, leaning over. "You can say hi, it's…it's okay. It's only been…five years?"

"More like four," she says, her voice soft. She turns her head, so they are really close. Her eyes fall to his lips and back up to his eyes. He looks a little different.

She looks different, he thinks, wondering what kind of cruel twist of fate this is. Or irony, he's not sure yet which literary device an author would use in this situation. He thought it was her, walking down the aisle of the plane, growing closer and closer until he realized that they are sitting right next to each other.

Los Angeles, huh? He imagined her there. A long time ago. She's got dark hair now, long, over her shoulders. "So…any reason why you never called back?"

"Landry," she whispers. She doesn't know what to say to him. This is too awkward. She swallows, her fingers curling around the folder. Her eyes close around tears. This is so…strange. "Landry it's been a long time."

"Why are you going to Los Angeles?"

The flight attendant begins the safety spiel and he lowers his voice. "I heard you graduated congratulations."

"You should still be in school," she says, quiet.

He shrugs. "Graduated early."

She clears her throat. "Why are you going?'

"The rest of the band is already out there. We got a record producer call us, signed the contract, we're recording some songs…have a few gigs." He smiles at her wide-eyed look. "Didn't think we'd make it, huh?"

"I didn't think you were serious about it."

They both chuckle a little. He makes a joke about how his degree in engineering means nothing now. She tells him she has a degree in special education, specializing in autism. He tells her about their record deal. She tells him about her job interview. He tells her he's single, quietly. She tells him she just left behind a long-term relationship, but it was both their choices that time.

Maybe they're not in the same place, she thinks, walking off the plane with him. They get their bags and he pauses outside the airport, with cabs and people running around. He smiles, cocking his head. "Do you…do you want to share a cab?"

Share a cab? She bites her lower lip, looking at him and then to the cabs. "Landry it's been…years."

"Doesn't mean we can't share a cab."

There's still a lot to talk about, she thinks, looking up at the smoggy California night sky and back to him. It's Christmas. It's nice. Why the hell not?

She lifts her finger. "Hands to yourself."

"I wouldn't dream of it Tyra."

"Shut up Landry."

He laughs, climbing into the cab after her and reaches for her hand, squeezing lightly. She covers his hand with hers, returning the light squeeze.


	4. Reputation

"Stop yelling!" she yells, holding one crying baby rubbing her ears, seeing four boys chasing each other in a chain, two of them switching places so she can't tell which is which, the other laughing because he thinks its fun, and the fourth trying to catch up, but tripping over his blanket.

She rubs her forehead, trying to finish the Christmas cookies, wondering if the tree was going to catch on fire with the amount of tinsel covering the lights, and trying to focus on the press conference.

"Guys!" she bellows, which makes the baby cry more. She pats little Ellie's head, snapping her fingers and pointing to the TV. "Daddy's on TV, watch him."

"Ooh!" all four yell and bound over to the couch, climbing on top of each other and turning the volume up.

The current coach, a nice guy from Oklahoma but who never quite fit into Dillon, steps up to the podium and she watches with a wide smile on her face, listening to him speak of his time in Dillon. "However," he says. "I have decided to take this time to retire back to Oklahoma. My family wishes to return and I believe now is a good time in this team's development for me to step aside. I have discussed my replacement with the board, with the superintendent and with the Boosters, and we all agree on my replacement."

"Ladies and Gentlemen of Dillon, I would like to introduce you to the newest head coach of Dillon Panther football, a State champion himself, Billy Riggins!"

She jumps up and down with the baby, laughing and pointing at the screen. "See? See that's Daddy? We're so proud of him!"

The front door opens and all five of them turn to the door. "Hey!" he exclaims, coming in holding up two bags from the Alamo Freeze. "Christmas sundaes!"

"Daddy!" all yell at once, four tow-headed boys racing towards him. The baby in her arms even giggles, suddenly forgetting her ear infection.

She smiles, letting him kiss her cheek. "Hey. Saw you on TV. Pretty good."

"That's pre-recorded, on a delay or something, here." He turns off the TV and takes out the sundaes for all of them, turning around and wrapping his arm around her waist. He smiles. "You ready for this Mrs. Coach?"

"Never thought I'd ever get called that," she says. She feels butterflies in her stomach. How can she be a Mrs. Coach? Coach's wives were the…the solid rock behind their husbands. They were there for the team, they opened up their home to the players, and to the town…she hated the town. She thought they were all insane.

And they didn't like her. She's still the stripper to them, even though she hadn't worked the pole in about ten years. She runs her tongue over her teeth, smiling as he yells with the boys. He's changed, she thinks to herself, knowing the town sees it.

The town sees it in both the Riggins boys, they respect them now. They're…they're the town's favorite sons, in a way Jason Street maybe was fifteen years ago. She's not though. They still think she's a Collette from across the tracks.

She lets him help her with the kids and when they're all asleep, they go into their bedroom. She sits on the edge of the bed, her eyes closed, thinking.

He comes up next to her and sits beside her. Something's wrong, he thinks, his hand going to cover hers. They're quiet for a minute. "What's wrong?" he says.

"This…town. I'm happy for you, but…" She turns to face him, wiping at her eyes. "How can they accept me? They barely accept you."

This seems so…not her. He reaches over and hugs her, rubbing his hands over her back. "You are a good woman Mindy," he whispers. "You'll be a great coach's wife because…because you're more the coach than me. If that makes sense."

"Not really," she laughs, wiping at her eyes. She smiles. "But I think I get it."

"You're a good mom. We've got four boys at home…plus Tim when he drags his ass here to get his laundry done because you know she won't do it." They both laugh at that. He frames her face with his hands. "I love you. It's going to be fine. It's…it's what we both want. Right?"

"Right," she says, kissing his palm. She takes a long, slow breath, grinning. "It just feels so weird. The most important two people in Dillon are a Riggins and a Collette."

"Feels good."

"Yeah."

He kisses her again. "I love you."

"I love you too." She rolls her eyes, to keep it from getting too serious and smacks his shoulder, getting off the bed to go put the presents for the kids out beneath the tree. "Dumbass."


	5. Feeling

A/N: This one is the farthest in the future. There's another chapter I have already written that explains a lot of it, but that's the fun of these little drabbles, they're all kind of out of place and scattered ;) The last chapter in the first "batch" will go up tomorrow, which the last couple. The remaining ones take the couples I've already written and start mixing them up with each other. Enjoy!

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Pain radiates up his back.

He shifts in the wheelchair, sitting off to the side and watching his son finish his first high school football game as a starting quarterback. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths.

Beside him, Erin touches his knee. "Are you alright?" she whispers.

He looks down at her fingers. "Yeah." He shifts again, the pain turning to prickles. Like his feet had fallen asleep for the last fifteen years and were finally waking up. It's in his lower back and he can feel something in his…

Hand.

He lifts his right hand and stares at it. It's prickling.

Very slowly, while the defense runs out onto the field and his son runs back to the sidelines, he lifts his right hand and turns from Erin, watching as his fingers uncurl and curl back.

"Oh my God," he whispers.

The surgery was six weeks ago. The doctor told him it might take upwards of six months. Six months to feel anything returning to his extremities. He closes his eyes, wanting to cry.

The pain settles into a consistent prickle at the base of his spine. He looks up and waves at Noah, running back onto the field. Erin is taking pictures and their daughter is off with some of her friends in another part of the stadium, pretending that the two of them don't exist.

He looks sideways at Erin and then smiles, looking down at his feet. There's no feeling there. Not yet, anyway, he thinks.

The team wins and he wheels his chair to Noah after the game. "You did great," he says, reaching his hands up to squeeze at Noah's. "Better than your old man."

"Thanks Dad," Noah says, smiling around his braces. Every bit the gangly, awkward teenager, but with the rocket arm and the agility and speed that he used to have. A Street. This would be the Street who went to Notre Dame, who got drafted into the NFL on the first round. This would be the Street who probably would marry the head cheerleader, the girlfriend he'd had since seventh grade.

He watches Noah run off with said girlfriend, a sweet girl, and lifts his face up to Erin, who is watching him curiously. "What?" he asks.

She smiles and reaches down to squeeze his hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Very good," he answers truthfully. He looks back down at his foot and focuses.

His eyes close when he swears he feels it twitch.


	6. Stay

A/N: The rest after this one will be mixing and matching up other characters, in the same little universe this drabble-fic has become :) Enjoy and thank you for all the reviews! I really appreciate them. :)

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All it is, is one visit.

Just one visit, she thinks, knocking into the wall, some photographs crashing to the ground. "Just this once," she whispers, his lips hot on her neck. Her nails curl in his shoulder. "Just once."

"Sure," he replies, kissing her again. She can hear the doubt in his voice. "Just this once."

Her fingers tug at his belt-buckle while his hands tear her shirt into two pieces, throwing the flannel down onto the ground. "That was my favorite shirt," she mumbles against his mouth, her heels digging into his hips, her boots and socks long gone.

"That's my favorite belt buckle," he retorts as she throws the belt down onto the floor with a crack. He laughs and lifts her up, carrying her up the stairs while she giggles, the two of them collapsing onto the bed.

She scrambles over onto her back up the bed, crooking a finger to him. He pounces and she knocks him sideways, pinning his shoulders to the pillows, her knees on either side of his hips. She stretches over him, her lips over his. "I missed you…more than you know," she whispers, her fingers trailing over his forehead and down his cheek, stroking his beard, which she actually likes on him.

He's so different, she thinks, her thumb running over his lower lip. He kisses the tip of her finger. "And you think I didn't miss you?" he replies.

She doesn't say anything because she knows if she missed him…he missed her. "We always find our way back to each other," she says. She shrugs her shoulder. "Too bad we wasted that time apart…"

"You did good," he says, kissing her fingers again, squeezing them over his heart. He smiles, sad. "Real good."

"So did you." Sometimes you need to hit rock bottom before you can find your way back to the top, she wants to say, but he's probably sick of sayings like that. She kisses him again, blinking through tears. She rolls onto her side, staring at him in the dim moonlight trickling in around the curtains.

It throws both of their faces into relief, giving him an even sadder look. She closes her eyes. "What do you want?" she asks, swallowing the lump in her throat.

I want…he thinks about that. He wants to not have to go over to Billy's house tomorrow. He wants to not have to listen to Landry Clarke's ridiculous new album but he has to for Tyra. He wants to call Jay and not feel like it's a chore. He wants…he wants the one thing he doesn't have.

He looks sideways. "What do you want?" he asks.

She seems surprised by his non-answer. She blinks and smiles. "I want you," she answers, like it's so obvious.

Maybe it is obvious. Maybe the answer to everything is right in front of them, the obvious one. He returns the smile, leaning over to draw her face to his, kissing hard. He breaks the kiss, his finger brushing a stray tear from the corner of her eye. "What about school?"

"I'll finish school. It's just one more year," she says, her nose brushing his. "And then I'll get a job here. I can come back to Dillon. If it's what you want." She smiles. "Do you want that Tim?"

He smiles, his forehead touching hers, their fingers entwining. "I have…" he whispers, his eyes closing. He has all he wants. "I have my house. I have a job. I have…a life." He touches her cheek, brushing aside the tears. "I want you. Can't that be enough?"

She's learned the hard way that no, it can't, but right now…after living almost ten years without him, missing him as desperately as she found herself missing him…how is it possible to fall in love with the love of your life when you're sixteen years old? How come she can't just leave and be done with it like any normal person? She can't. She misses him too much. She nods, having learned that answer the hard way. "Yes, it can be enough."

"Good," he whispers. "Because all I want is you Lyla. I've wanted you since we were sixteen."

"I know."

"You can't be here and not marry me you know."

She snorts and laughs, wrapping her arms around him, holding close, smiling. "My dad is going to kill me."

He looks down at her, grinning. "That a yes?"

"Is that even a proposal?" she teases, kissing him and nodding her response. She breaks the kiss a minute later, unable to contain her giggling. "Hello. Tim." No more goodbyes, she thinks.

He laughs and hugs her tighter, reaching to kiss her fingertips, squeezing her hand tight. "Hello Lyla Garrity."


	7. Independent

A/N: Sorry for the delay :) More updates are on their way. Thank you for the reviews! They are greatly appreciated. Enjoy this chapter!

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"Okay, I think I'm ready."

Her sister glances sideways at her, lifting her chin and smiling. "No you're not. Go throw up one more time."

"I can't, it's like…I'm so nervous I can't even throw up." She smoothes her hands over the bodice of her wedding gown, staring at the reflection in the mirror. It is a crime, she thinks, cocking her head a little, that she's wearing white. Well, off-white. Ivory, that's the color of the dress. There's a slash of red fabric beneath the skirt, visible through the knee-length slit.

Her sister gets a bottle of tequila from her bag, pouring two shots. "Okay, this should be enough. Just one though, you can't faint going down the aisle."

If she doesn't faint before she starts walking, she thinks, throwing back the shot. She grimaces, wiping her mouth with her back of her hand and hearing a high-pitched screech. "What? Oh damnit!" Her lipstick and gloss is all over the back of her hand. She flaps her hands like those panicky women she hates. "Fix it, hurry!"

There's a light knock on the door and the newest Mrs. Riggins steps in, smiling warmly. "How's it going in here?"

"Makeup touch-up," Mindy says, rushing over with the lipstick and gloss.

"Is everyone out there?" she asks through pursed lips, as Mindy finishes the last bit of touches with the gloss. She breathes slowly, her eyes closing. This is insanity, absolutely insanity. She feels ready to hyperventilate. "Is it okay?"

Lyla nods, her hands folded over her stomach. "Yeah, it's fine. Your knight in shining armor is here to walk you down the aisle."

As though her mother knew this was an important day for her, the most important of her life, she chose three days before to go ice skating for the first time and broke her ankle, so there was no way she could walk her down the aisle. It's kind of ironic, she thinks then, that her brother-in-law decided to step in for her mother and walk her down the aisle.

There's another knock and she looks over, wanting to cry when Mrs. Taylor and Julie come inside, Julie holding little Annie, who is wearing a frilly pink flower-girl gown and will be toddling down the aisle with Stevie, the ringbearer. "This is so silly," she laughs, fanning herself. She's become one of those girls she hated growing up. "I can't believe this."

"You're beautiful," Mrs. Taylor says, hugging her tight. "Oh, I'm so proud of you Tyra."

"Thanks," she breathes, reaching around to hug Julie, who is one of her maids of honor. She looks over at Lyla. "So where is this knight you speak of?"

She rolls her eyes, smiling. "He's with Landry right now I'll go get him." She disappears out the door, closing it quietly behind her.

After a few minutes of accepting the compliments from Julie, Mrs. Taylor, and even her sister, she ushers them out and stands by herself, just for a minute. She closes her eyes, reaching to touch at her neck, just breathing for a few seconds.

I am Tyra Collette, she thinks to herself. I can do anything.

The door opens and she hears a sigh. "You look beautiful."

"Shut up," she warns, opening her eyes and smiling at him. She lifts an eyebrow. "You're wearing a suit."

"Apparently. I was told to shower, brush my hair, and put on the clothes laid out for me on the bed."

"You do everything your wife tells you?"

"I do everything my hormonal eight months pregnant wife tells me, yes," he teases, knocking his shoulder into hers. He leads her out of the dressing room, standing off in the back of the church, the doors already open and the music playing. It's time. She watches little Stevie and Annie walk down the aisle, followed by Julie, then Mindy and she glances sideways at him, her lips pursing.

He looks over at her, smiling. "What? You didn't seriously expect us to be coming back up the aisle?"

She laughs, leaning in to brush a kiss to his cheek. "No Tim. I never expected to marry you."

"I never expected you to marry Landry Clarke though."

She looks back down the aisle, grinning at her future husband standing there with Matt and some of his other friends she didn't know very well. She shakes her head. "It was fate, I guess."

"Yes, the plane, you told me."

"Just like how Buddy's heart attack was fate for you guys."

He shrugs. "That wasn't fate." He sighs, his eyes immediately spotting his wife in the crowd. "That was inevitable." He reaches to tug her veil down over her face, smiling. His voice is really quiet, his look…content. It's the happiest she thinks she's seen him. Except perhaps she imagines, his own wedding. "You look beautiful Tyra."

That, she thinks, beginning to walk down the aisle with her former boyfriend giving her away, is the nicest thing Tim Riggins has ever said to her.

Until he pauses, about five feet down the aisle. She glares sideways. I'm going to kill you, she silently thinks, hoping he's reading her mind. "What are you doing?" she hisses. There are people watching!

He lets go of her arm and places her hand on the other side of her bouquet, kissing her cheek. "I shouldn't be here. You should walk yourself down the aisle. You've always been…independent." He smiles and backs away, wiggling his eyebrows.

She turns to face the aisle, which seems infinitely longer now that there's no one standing with her and then…she sees him at the end of the aisle, beaming. She smiles, blinking through tears.

And she walks herself down the aisle, proving to everyone in that church just how far she's come.

She releases a sigh she didn't realize she's been holding for her entire life, when they turn around a few moments later, lifting their hands up as the church cheers and applauds for her. Her new husband kisses her cheek, saying something about how he really didn't want to wake up from this dream.

It's not a dream. She laughs to herself.

I, Tyra Collette, she thinks, finally have it all.


	8. Names

She's got the paperwork sitting in her lap, her eyes narrowing on all the silly little bits of fine print. She sighs, looking up when the bedroom door opens and he walks in. "Does this name change thing really mean anything to you?" she asks.

"What name change?" He begins to take off his boots, leaning forward, his eyes narrowing on her. "You're changing your name?"

It's not something she ever expected would be this important to her. "Yes. Generally after women get married, they change their last names."

"You have to do paperwork for that?"

"It's a legal thing, how did you not know this?"

"I don't know things, okay?" he teases, smiling over at her and tossing one of the boots into the corner, sending dirt and mud flying across the hardwood. He shrugs. "I'll clean that up."

No you won't, I will, but she doesn't say that and just looks back down at the papers she cannot bring herself to sign. "It's so weird," she whispers, shaking her head. "I mean…I always thought I'd change my name after I got married, but…I mean, I was going to be Street, you know? This is just…I thought it would be easier, but it's like letting go of something you didn't realize was important to you. Like a last name."

He crawls up onto the bed, falling sideways onto the pillows, looking up at her. "You don't have to change your name if you don't want. I don't really care, because I'm still gonna' call you Garrity."

She smiles, slumping down onto the pillows, her head resting against his. "You know, I can put whatever I wanted on this name change document. I could be whatever I wanted."

"You don't have to change your name," he repeats, taking the papers and setting them aside, wrapping his arm around her waist and tugging her against him. He kisses her lightly. "I still love you no matter what you want to call yourself."

She strokes his hair for a brief minute, just looking up into his eyes. A strange sense of peace washes over her. This is her life now. She looks back at the papers. "I can hyphenate. I just kind of want to put your last name with mine so that I can see my dad's face turn purple whenever he sees it. I don't think its sunk in for him yet."

"That's more than enough reason."

He kisses her again. "You're always going to be Lyla Garrity to me." His hand settles on her stomach, the swell now noticeable to people who didn't already know. "And this one can be whatever you want to call it."

She touches the bump, smiling up at the ceiling as he rests his head against her shoulder, hugging her. "Just think though…if I change my name professionally, there will seriously be a Dr. Riggins in the world."

"Cool. Sure as hell was never going to be Billy or me."

She kisses him again, rolling him backwards. "I love you."

"I love you too." He links his hands around her waist, in the small of her back. "So whatcha' gonna' do Garrity?"

She smiles. "I think Lyla Garrity-Riggins is an awful long name. Same for…" She wrinkles her nose. "Alistair Garrity Riggins."

"We are not naming my son Alistair."

"Wilhelmina."

"Is that a girl's name or a boy's?"

She giggles, hitting him with a pillow and jumping to her feet on the bed. "Warrington."

"Don't joke."

She begins to bounce. "Phyllis."

He jumps up to his feet with her, beginning to bounce on the bed, grabbing the pillow and hitting her shoulder with it. "Stop it."

"Xavier."

"Actually that's not bad."

Her eyes widen. "What? No way."

In that moment of distraction he grabs her around the waist, tackling her back onto the bed and pinning her arms over her head. He smiles, kissing her. "We still have another four and a half months to figure it out."

She loops her arms around his neck, returning the kiss. When she rolls over onto her back, her foot kicks the papers to scatter on the floor. Later, she thinks, arching against him, a smile on her lips.

A/N: I'm not really sure where this story is going, it's just a bunch of little snippets. I think until I answer the littel loose ends I've planted in each chapter, I'll just keep going. :) Thank you for all the reviews!


	9. Family

A/N: This is a super duper short one, so I've posted a much longer one, both of which are Taylor family-centri. I'm trying to mix and match the characters while telling the story, so there might be some chapters with the same characters and others without. It's moving farther into the future and the events are going to be spaced out a little more. Just wanted to say thanks again for the reviews :) Hope you enjoy the rest!

* * *

"Matt you really don't have to be nervous, my dad loves you."

He isn't quite so sure that Coach loves him as much as it is he grudgingly has accepted his presence in his life. He shakes his head, turning the rental car down the street in Texas, biting his lower lip nervously. "I don't know…"

She rolls her eyes, glancing at the house number she's scribbled on a piece of paper. "It's that one, oh…it's so pretty! Look at the trees!"

"There are trees in Chicago you know." He doesn't want to move back here, but he knows she misses her family. He shakes his head, his eyes narrowing at the sign in the front of the porch. "Does that seriously say Keep Out?"

"Oh, Mom said Gracie's in a weird mood. Something about being a teenager, I don't know, I never did anything like that."

No you were just as crazy, but after the last several years of being together, marriage, and then having a one-year old, he's gotten very good at when to speak and when to keep his opinion to himself. He gets out of the car, going around to the backseat and removing Annie's carseat. "This is your grandparents' home," he says to her, looking down at her wide eyes. "They're a little…"

"Ahhhhhh!"

"Loud," he finishes, smiling wide at Mrs. Coach running out of the house with her arms outstretched. She completely bypasses her daughter, him, and reaches for the carrier, pushing his chest to get him to let go. "Um, you know, she's just woken up and she sometimes…"

"Matthew I've had babies before, I know, oh she's gotten so big!"

The women immediately run off into the house, laughing, crying, and generally being loud. He stands in the driveway, his hands in his pockets, shrugging.

The door to the side of the garage opens and his eyes widen at his father-in-law approaching him, holding a rake. "Uh…hello sir." He wraps his arms tight around himself. "Then went inside. I'm getting the bags."

"Matt you don't have to be afraid of me." He gestures towards him, leading him away from the driveway and around into the shed in the back. He closes the door and reaches into a cooler, removing two bottles of beer. "We need to stick together."

He takes the beer, glancing at it and then back at Coach. "This isn't a test?"

"I'm done testing you Matt, have a seat and let's watch some football before they get all clucky and start making us work." He sits back in a lawn chair, watching a small flatscreen placed up on a shelf, a football game already playing. He glances sideways. "Siddown Matt."

He sits.

Coach leans his bottle of beer towards him and he clicks his against Coach's. "To the Taylor women," he says.

He smiles, clicking the beer. "And the Saracen women, Coach."

He scowls around his bottle of beer. "Saracen."

"Face it Coach, I'm here for the long haul."

He just rolls his eyes, but smiles to himself. "Whatever."


	10. Daughters

He peers out the window, his eyes narrowing on the boy in the Jeep in the driveway. "I don't like this," he says out loud. He glances over his shoulder, where she's ignoring him, working on some sort of a project. He speaks louder. "I really don't like this."

She sets the papers down on her knees. "Honey, get away from the window. If you keep up that look it's going to stay that way forever."

"That's what you told Julie so she'd stop crossing her eyes in second grade."

"And it worked, didn't it? She never crossed her eyes at me again." She folds up her paperwork into a file, looking over her half-moon glasses, her voice calm, like he's one of her students or something. "Eric Taylor you have two very good, very beautiful, very well-behaved daughters. Julie is married and has a child, you cannot change that. Gracie is a beautiful sixteen year old and you cannot change that either."

"No, but I can change her dating a football player. From a prep school!"

"Just because it's a public or a prep school makes no difference in his football skills."

"No, it just makes him a rich football player." He begins to pace back and forth in the living room, his hands on his hips. "I should do what Tim Riggins did."

She lifts an eyebrow. "Honey I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth again. You know full well whatever Tim Riggins does, you do the exact opposite because it's usually the safe and legal option."

Maybe that's true, but his former football player had an excellent plan of attack for his daughter's future. "It's all legal, he just put her in all girls' schools until she graduates. Plus, he's got the word out to all the families in Dillon with boys the same age and told them that they're going to keep their sons from his daughter." He snaps his fingers. "I should do that. I should go to that school and say no football player is dating my Gracie Belle."

The papers will just have to wait until tomorrow. Or until such time as her husband can stop being insane about his daughters dating, or in Julie's case marrying, football players.

What can I say, us Taylor women have a type, she thinks, reaching for a stack of mail. She begins to open, glancing over at him, plastered against the window. "Honey, she's sixteen in a parked car in our front driveway. What she's doing is waiting for you to leave so she isn't mortified having you open the door for her when her boyfriend drives off."

He doesn't know why she would think that he'd embarrass her. He pulls the curtain closed, waiting a beat and the car drives off. The front door opens and Gracie slams it behind her, glaring at him. "You embarrassed me! Carter knew that was you!"

"What kind of a name is Carter?"

"What kind of a name is Eric?" she snaps, throwing her purse down on the floor. She storms by him for the kitchen. "I'm a straight-A student, I come home an hour before curfew every single night and I never complain, but seriously? I can't go out with a nice guy from my AP Biology class?!"

"What position does he play in football?" he demands. It's a theory he's working on.

She shrugs, opening up a bottle of water. "He's a fullback."

His eyes widen and he turns to his wife. "A fullback."

She holds her hands up in the air, smiling. "At least he isn't a quarterback."

"He's a straight-A student just like me, his father is a lawyer, his mother is a doctor, and he has one older brother who went to Harvard Business school." Gracie makes a face at both of them. "I'm going up to my room and hoping I wake up with a different father."

He smiles to himself. "I love you honey!"

"I love you too Dad, now leave me alone!"

The door upstairs slams in response. He goes over and sits beside her on the couch, his head on her shoulder. "That was fun. We should do it more often."

She just passes him the newest photo of Lyanna Riggins, this time wearing a Dillon Panthers jersey. "Your goddaughter," she says, scanning the neat handwriting from Lyla. She smiles. "They're having another."

"What?" He smiles at the pictures. "She's a cutie."

"They're having another baby, Lyla says she's pregnant again. That's great news, I was so worried about them there for awhile." She smiles, squeezing his hand. "And yes, she is a cutie.

They'll have their hands full, if they don't already." She takes the photo back, setting it atop the card from Tyra and Landry announcing their adoption of two little girls from the foster system.

It's like she's getting old, she thinks, her head touching his. Gracie Belle dating. Her students growing up with children of their own. Hell, her own daughter having a four-year old. It was…wow.

She takes his hand, squeezing. "I'm glad we came back to Texas," she whispers.

He smiles, kissing her cheek and hugging her close. "Me too."

"You realize it's inevitable that in Texas she's going to date football players."

"Yes."

She chuckles, kissing him again. "Just so we're clear."

"I can still try."

"It's a battle you're going to lose," she laughs, kissing him one more time.

A/N: There's a few chapters I've already written that are a bit darker, but I'll also try to space those between the light-hearted bits.


	11. Sisters

A/N: Once again thank you for the reviews! There are going to be a couple of chapters of Riggins family shenanigans, only because I realized I messed up with alternating the characters/chapters, so sorry about that! Enjoy :)

* * *

She rushes down the hallway of the hospital, grabbing hold of the counter the second she sees a nurse or at least, someone she thinks is a nurse. "Hey um, I got a phone call, Dr. Lyla Garrity? Maybe Riggins? I have no idea what she calls herself."

"And you are?"

"I'm sort of her sister-in-law, I think?" She shrugs. What the hell, she thinks that's right. She looks at the nurse, lifting her eyebrows and popping her gum. "I'm Mindy Riggins, Coach Billy Riggins's wife? Dillon Panthers?"

That's when it dawns on her. "Oh yes, of course, Coach Riggins, um, let's see…Lyla…she's here under Riggins…was she expecting you?"

"Well she called me screaming about how she couldn't get in touch with my dumbass brother-in-law or her equally dumbass of a father, so yeah, I think she's expecting me." She rolls her eyes, following the nurse around the door and into a hallway, which she remembers pretty darn well from her pregnancies, all four of them.

As they approach a room at the end of the hall, she hears a loud clatter and then screaming. "Where is my stupid husband!? Go find him!" A frazzled medical assistant comes out, hurrying down the hall.

"Thanks, I got it from here," she says to the nurse, going into the room to see her sister-in-law on the bed, grasping her stomach and hitting her head back against the pillow. "Oh I've been there," she says, taking off her coat. "Did you get ice chips?"

"Did you find the bastard that did this to me?" She cries, covering her face with her hands. "I never should have slept with him in tenth grade. This all started in tenth grade."

She chuckles, popping her gum again. "Oh sweetie just be glad this didn't happen to you in tenth grade, what with all that other crap you had going on back then." She goes over and fluffs the pillows, tugging the blanket back up over her stomach. "Just sit tight."

The other woman grabs her wrist, breathing deep, her hair piled high on top of her head. She looks deranged, but what woman in the throes of labor looks sane? "Find him Mindy," she growls, her voice straining through a contraction. "Find him, so he can come here and I can castrate him. I learned how in medical school. I can make it look like an accident."

She smiles, patting her cheek. "Don't worry; I've got a call in to him. Let me get you some ice chips." She leaves the room, makes the phone call threatening to castrate him herself, only she won't be nice and surgical about it, before going back into the delivery room, where Lyla is breathing through another contraction, her hands gripping the bars on either side of her bed.

They settle in with ice chips and she turns on the TV, watching an interview with her other brother-in-law. "I can't believe Landry's band made big," Lyla says through ice chips. "I always thought it sounded like cats getting strangled."

"That's an insult to strangled cats," she says, chuckling. She tips her cup of ice chips over so the other can steal some more.

Another hour passes and there is no word from her stupid brother-in-law. The nurse comes in, saying that it's time, she's at ten centimeters. "Who is going to be here with you during the delivery?" the nurse asks.

She glances at the panicked face of Lyla, how she wants to start hyperventilating. "I will," she says, squeezing her sister-in-law's hand tight. She smiles. It's the least she can do. "Don't worry, I've done this before. All without drugs and both of the twins weighed about seven pounds each."

"Oh God!" Lyla exclaims.

They wheel her out of the room and into another down the hall, which is far more surgical. She puts on the cap and the robe and squeezes Lyla's hand, helping her breathe when she needs to. The doctor yells for her to push one more time.

"I can't!" Lyla screams while she's pushing, looking up when the door bursts open. "Asshole!" she screams, reaching for something to throw, but there's nothing. "I hate you!" she cries, sobbing and reaching up for him. "I hate you, I love you. Where the hell have you been!?"

"Billy…truck…long story, but I lost my phone," Tim says, grabbing the robe from the nurse and tugging it on over his clothes. He smiles, loopy and giddy. "Thanks Minds. You can go now."

"Oh hell no, I've been here longer than you, I'm finishing this!"

"But it's my kid!"

"Both of you shut up, I'm trying to push a human being out of me!" Lyla screams, letting out one last gasp before falling backwards.

She grins when the squalling little thing in the doctor's arms looks over at her. She watches, smiling happily as the doctor passes her off to Tim, who looks stunned. He instinctively tucks her into the crook of his arm, like a football.

Don't drop that football, she thinks, squeezing her sister's hand. "You have a girl," she whispers. "She's beautiful."

"A girl?" She laughs, reaching to take the baby, her hand smoothing over the tiny little thing's face while she mews pitifully in the blue surgical sheets she's all wrapped in. "Oh. She's perfect."

To not intrude, she leaves, waiting in the hall until he comes out and throws himself at her, hugging tight. "Thanks for being there," he whispers.

"No problem." She sighs, rubbing his back. "You are such a dumbass."

"I know." He pulls away, kissing her cheek. "We don't know what to call her, but her middle name is going to be Mindy."

Her eyes widen. "Really?"

"Really." He kisses her cheek one last time. "I love you Minds."

"I love you too, you stupidhead. Now go." She wipes her eyes, clapping her hands together. "Go back to them. And Tim…" She purses her lips, lifting an eyebrow. She has to at least pretend to be a hardass on him. "If you screw this up I will personally kill you before Lyla even has a chance."

He looks so happy and stupid at the same time, she just wants to love him some more. "I wouldn't expect anything less of you Mindy." And then he's gone, back into the room, leaving her alone in the hall.

She claps her hands again, bouncing on her heels back down the hall.

She has a number of calls to make.

Starting with her husband, just to tell him she loved him. And his dumb brother. Who was kind of her brother too.

She squeals and runs down the hall.


	12. Running

A/N: Going back to chapter 5, this is the "set-up" chapter for that. The next few chapters are going to deal with the "darker" storyline that pops up, but then it goes back and forth between lighthearted and the other characters. I messed up the alternating of each chapter, which is why some characters are in about three or four in a row and others are not, so sorry about that! Enjoy and thank you for all the reviews :)

* * *

It's been a long time, he thinks, sitting on the exam table, his back propped against the wall, his knuckles helping to support him while his useless legs dangle over the side. He watches her reviewing the CT scans on a large computer monitor in the corner.

He takes the moment to observe the changes the years have taken on her. Her hair is shorter, tied back from her face, but the ponytail no longer reaches her shoulders like it used to. She's got a pretty diamond ring on her left hand with her wedding band and a bracelet of macaroni and colored yarn on her wrist. There's laugh lines in her eyes. She's still as fit as she was in high school, but her black scrubs hide it.

It's been quiet too long. "Well," he whispers, looking at his hands. His useless hands, he thinks sometimes, even after all this time. "What do you think?"

The wheels on the swivel chair rattle as she spins from the computer, reaching into the pocket of her lab coat for a little prickly wheel. She runs it under his feet, up his knees and then instructs him to turn his hands up. She rolls it over both of his hands. "Nothing?" she asks.

He shakes his head. Not for the last fifteen years.

She nods, taking his right hand, the one he has the most use in, slowly manipulating his fingers and muscles. A frown appears, her forehead wrinkling. "Well," she says, her voice quiet. She glances at the CT scans and back to him, her dark eyes sparkling as she smiles. "There's a couple of options, if you want to entertain them."

"What are they?"

"I can recommend you see a specialist in California. He's a former instructor of mine at Stanford and he is currently conducting an experimental surgery involving the use of umbilical stem cells. It's hard to get in, but you're a candidate. He's looking at people who have been paralyzed for longer than ten years and as a result of trauma from the C-7 vertebrae." She shrugs. "There's a few others…some involve fairly invasive surgery, I won't lie. Surgery where you might wake up with a breathing tube and all your hard work and mobility you have now is gone." She shrugs again. "You'd be like Christopher Reeve."

He closes his eyes, hitting his head back against the wall. He nods, looking down at his hands. "Okay."

She's quiet for a long time. "Jason," she breathes, her hands folding in her lap. "What brought this on? It's been fifteen years. You never cared about walking again before."

"I guess now I have an in," he teases, smiling at her. She returns the smile, but her concern is still there. He thinks it must be the look she uses on her kids. Both little holy terrors. He smiles. "Noah's in high school, he's playing football…he's really good Lyla. Better than me. He's got a shot to be more than I was, because of my accident. I guess I thought…after all this time, maybe there was something new out there. Some new surgery or treatment I could have that would give me feeling."

"Feeling…maybe," she whispers. She takes the little prickly wheel from her pocket, running it up his leg. "Maybe you could feel that one day." She sets it aside, crossing her arms again. "But walking? Jason that's a pipe dream. It's not going to happen. You'll likely never walk. Maybe in several more years you can have some surgery that will allow you enough mobility and sensation to use braces and crutches, but…your best bet is being able to just feel again."

In a weird way that's what he kind of wants.

He nods and smiles again. "So…can you put that word in for me?"

"Of course." She stands up, nudging the stool back to the computer and desk. "I'll let you get back in your chair and then you can take me to coffee where I will show you photos of all my kids." She covers her stomach with both her hands. "These two are all Riggins, the ultrasound showed them punching each other. I think they're both boys. Tim needs some testosterone in the house."

"Having girls does him good, it's karma," he laughs, but he's looking forward to sitting and talking with her. He grins. "Thanks Lyla."

"Least I could do," she whispers, closing the door behind him.

He remembers a long, long time ago. Her desire and earnest need for him to "get better."

Advocado, he thinks idly. He carefully moves himself from the table to his chair, dragging his legs over to fit against the foot pedals. He laughs to himself, rolling out and down the hall to her main office, with its many framed photos on the wall and the desk. He looks up at one she's got of their wedding. She's in a black dress and he's wearing a t-shirt and jeans. "You know I'm still bitter you didn't invite me," he says, looking up at it.

She shrugs off her lab coat, laughing. "No one was happy we didn't invite them. Just Billy, my Dad, Mindy, Mom, and Coach Taylor and Mrs. Taylor. It was…the way it was supposed to be."

Yes, he agrees with that. He bites his lower lip, unsure how to bring it all up. "Um, how…how is he doing? I mean, how are you guys doing?"

She looks up, her smile soft. "We're fine. We're…" she laughs, her hands going back to her stomach. "Stronger than ever. Rosie was the…the make-up night baby I guess you could say. After he got out."

"How long now?"

"Got his chip. Three years."

He looks back at her, pulling her jacket on. They don't need to talk about her marital issues. He thinks of something else, something kind of funny. "Remember when you lived to make me walk again? Isn't it funny how you might actually be doing that?"

She laughs, leaning back against her desk. "I'm not going to be the one making you walk again."

"No, but you're helping. You help others." He turns the chair around. "Dr. Garrity."

She rolls her eyes, her hands in her pockets, following him out of the office and down the hall. "Actually I officially changed it a few months ago."

"No, really?" he laughs.

"Yeah, it's been about five years of marriage, two kids, six months of fighting and almost divorce, rehab, and two more kids on the way…I think it was time," she says.

"So you're seriously Dr. Lyla Riggins."

She sighs, placing her hand on his shoulder as they wait for the elevator. "Yes, you can laugh now. You can make fun of me all you want, but never in my life did I imagine that would be my name one day."

"Actually I'm just thinking that there's a Dr. Riggins. I mean, seriously," he laughs, looking up and taking her hand, patting it. He releases it and rolls into the elevator, looking up as she follows. "I'm happy for you Lyla."

She smiles, leaning down to kiss his cheek. "I love you too Jason."


	13. Fatherhood

A/N: So this is the one that most obviously hints at the "darkest timeline." There's another Saracen one for Chapter 14, so bear with me, LOL. And thank you for allt he reviews! I was going to keep it light and happy most of the time but FNL was never always dark and happy, so yeah, there might be bumps in the way. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

He gets out of his truck, pausing a minute to readjust the ever present blue baseball hat on his head, before walking up the path to the house. He knocks, waiting a few seconds before hearing "yeah" come from inside.

"Hey," he says, walking into the living room, where his baby brother is passed out on the couch, a football game on the huge flatscreen in the corner. He immediately scans the kitchen for empty beer or liquor bottles, but there's none to be had. That's good. "So…where's the kid?"

"Your niece, you mean?" He gets off the couch, leaning over the back of it and picking up the sleeping toddler, whose hair is sticking up all over the place. He rests her head against the crook of his neck, cradling her against him. "She fell asleep with the dog, I didn't feel like disturbing her, but now I will because you're here." He walks out of the living room, right by, without a sound.

He sighs, turning and following his brother into the kitchen. "So…I don't really know how to break this to you…" Especially because of...your condition. He peeks into the open pantry door. Casually checks the fridge. "But…"

"Our father's dead."

His voice is dull as he holds the baby to his chest, walking around getting down a sippy cup from the cabinet and going to the fridge, removing a bottle of apple juice. He's expressionless. "Yeah Billy, I can read."

Not that he doesn't believe that, but..."Lyla told you."

"Yes, she told me, because I don't live with you anymore Billy so my wife tells me things now." He swigs from the sippy cup, passing it to the toddler who is waking slowly, clutching the cup in her little hands. His face immediately softens, there's a peaceful quality to it that he hadn't seen in his life, until the little toddler came along almost a year and a half before.

He leans his elbows on the counter, watching carefully. "Tim, this is big. What should we do?"

"What do you mean what should we do? Here pumpkin," he says, handing her a Kleenex to wipe her nose. She sniffles, her head against his, her eyes closing again. He sways lightly with her, frowning. "We shouldn't do anything Billy."

He draws back, surprised. "But he was our dad."

"No he wasn't," he says, his voice quiet, smiling down at the little girl, who is grinning up at him. He runs his fingers through her dark curls, which stick up even more. His voice is wistful. "Dads don't do what he did." He touches his forehead to the little girl's. "As bad as I was...I didn't do that to my kid. Wouldn't do that to my kids."

Maybe so, but…he shakes his head. The guy's dead. "You really don't want to do anything? No card, flowers? He's dead Timmy, gone forever, our father...I mean..."

"You can go to the funeral or the burning or whatever the hell they're going to do with him but I want no part."

Why the hell can't he let this go? "Don't you want to know how he died?" This seems…not like his little brother. The one who always tried to believe that their parents were just on vacation sometimes, forgetting all the beatings, the screaming, and the nights spent wondering if they were even alive.

He shrugs. "I don't care Billy. You can tell me, but…I really can't care. I can't make myself care." He walks around the kitchen island, back into the living room and sits down on the floor with the little girl between his knees, reaching over to a giant plastic pink castle with little princess characters. She immediately starts toddling around, placing the characters where they're supposed to go, giggling and chattering.

Maybe it's okay. He shakes his head. Maybe Timmy's right. They're dad would never…was never…he leans against the entryway to the living room watching his little brother and his niece. She throws one of the little princess things. He laughs, but gets up and starts chasing her around the living room.

"Billy!" she giggles, running to hide behind his knees. "No!" She laughs again, before pushing him aside and running at her father. "Daddy!"

Once upon a time ago he'd have never imagined his tortured little brother being called that and…wanting it. He smiles, watching his brother fling her up into the air, spinning her around before hugging her tight. He whispers something to her and she grins, kissing his nose. He shakes his head. "Okay. We won't do anything."

"Billy."

He looks over his shoulder, on his way out. "Yeah?"

He smiles, bouncing his daughter, little Lyanna on his hip. "If you want to do something, you can put my name on it, but…I want no part of it." He looks down at the smiling girl. "I can't really bring myself to care about a guy that did what he did to his kids." He shrugs again, his voice quiet, fading as he returns his full attention to his daughter. "Maybe when I was a kid I didn't get it, but…not now."

He nods and heads to the door, only to stop and turn back around, walking towards him, lifting an eyebrow. Something Tim said stuck with him. Kids. Not kid. I'd never do that to my kids. "Hey, idiot…you knock up Lyla again?"

His brother doesn't look up from readjusting the roof of the princess castle. "Knock up seems a bit high school."

"You do it or not?"

He finally looks up, smiling. "Good job little bro," he says, grinning and walking over to fist-bump him. "How far along?"

"Few months so don't go telling everyone."

Funny, that's what I told you all four times, he thinks, rolling his eyes. Something sparks in his memory and he frowns. "That means…"

"Yes, almost a month after I got out of the doctor place." He looks up, scowling. "Don't you have a job or something?" So that's enough family bonding. His brother takes little Lyanna's hand. "Say bye to Uncle Billy! Say you're a stupid idiot Uncle Billy."

"Bye Billy!" the little girl chirps.

He rolls his eyes and leaves the house, waiting a beat in the cab of his truck. He glances back at the obituary, shaking his head. Timmy's right, he thinks, setting it aside and driving off of the property.

Their dad didn't deserve it, but he'd send some flowers to the address listed in the obituary, to some girlfriend or something. Although his little brother was right. Dads didn't do what he did. Theirs didn't really have an excuse for all the pain he'd put them both through.

Now all he wants to do is just go hug his kids, since his idiot little brother had the words of wisdom on this one.

And wasn't that just ironic?


	14. Musings

"Do you think we should move back to Texas?"

She almost spits out her hot coffee, but instead swallows, burning her tongue in the process. "Excuse me?" she asks, setting the mug down. She reaches over and pick up the toy her almost two-year old daughter's thrown down on the floor. "Why do you say that?"

He shakes his head, reaching for a crayon from Lorraine's, or Annie as they call her, little artist set. He begins to sketch idly on the back of her notebook. "Your parents are back there…Gracie's getting bigger…all our friends are there…"

"Not all our friends. Landry and Tyra are living in Los Angeles."

"Well, most of our friends."

She feels the need to point out that he is generalizing, mostly because she doesn't want to move back to Texas. "Smash lives in Miami and might be living in Cleveland once his contract's up and he takes the money they're offering. Devin is living in Los Angeles with the rest of the band, and then there's my friend Lois who is Seattle, Jason lives in New York…"

"Okay, okay, I get it, fine, but…" he blows out a hard breath. He glances at the mural on the wall, hesitating again. "I don't know Julie, it just seems like it's getting harder and harder for you to write here. Maybe in Texas there's more jobs."

"There aren't more jobs for freelance journalists," she says. She picks up Annie, cradling her against her chest, lifting an eyebrow. "What are we going to do Matt? Live in Austin with my parents? Move to Dillon? I can write anywhere, my book is coming along great…you can paint anywhere, but…Chicago is your inspiration. The lake, the architecture…the culture."

He doesn't want to fight on this, but…he's only in Chicago because of the Art Institute and he's graduated. She's done with school, she can write anywhere and she's only here because of him. He fiddles with the crayon, finishing up his sketch. "I guess I just kind of miss it all," he breathes. He shrugs. "Forget it."

There's a silence for a moment, broken by the rock music in the next room as he begins to paint. She picks up the paper he's left, staring at the sketch of the Dillon Panther. "Oh come on," she mumbles, hefting up Annie on her hip and walking into the studio, where she slaps her hand on the stereo. "Okay! I will consider it!"

He turns, already covered in paint. How it happens that fast, she has no idea, but she's not ever known a day without it sticking in his hair or staining his hands. "What?"

"I will consider returning to Texas, but! " She lifts her finger. "Only after my book sells and only Austin. The rest of Texas is too weird. At least Austin has live music."

He smiles. "Thanks, just consider."

"Just considering it." She walks into the living room, picks up her phone, and as if on cue, it rings. She recognizes Tyra's number and answers. "Hey, what's going on, did you tell Matt to move us back to Texas?"

"What? No, but are you free in five months?"

"Why? Oh my God, are you pregnant?"

"Ew, no, but I am engaged!"

Her eyes widen. "Excuse me?"

"Landry and I got engaged!"

"But…" She turns, staring at her husband, who is frowning and watching her from the entryway to his studio. "Uh…not that that's not great news, but…you guys were dating? I thought you were just friends?"

"It's a long story, but yes, we were just friends, and then we decided to get married."

"Tyra is this about the fact that I just had a baby and your sister just had a baby…"

"This is not about babies! This is about…it's a long story, I'll tell you when I see you, but we're getting married in five months in Dillon, because everyone we know is there, so it's easier. Then we're going back to Los Angeles."

She shakes her head, but smiles. It seems…Tyra-ish. "Okay, fine. Let me know."

"Everything okay?"

"It's fine, my…my book is reaching a frustrating point. Talk to you later. Congratulations." She waits until her friend says a few more things about the future wedding and hangs up, setting her phone down and smiling at her husband. "Call your friend. Apparently he and Tyra are getting married."

"What!?"

"My thoughts exactly."

"I thought they were just friends."

"Apparently not." She bounces Annie on her hip, smiling at her beautiful little girl. It isn't like she came early, she just…she was a happy little accident. Being a writer afforded her the opportunities to do what she wanted, to stay with Annie, and…and she didn't have to become her worst thought. Some teenage girl who married young, had a kid, and was living a life she didn't want.

I want it, she thinks, turning and glancing over her shoulder at her husband, knocking over paint and throwing it onto his giant canvas. She kisses her daughter's temple, smiling to herself. "You're not going to live in Texas," she says, shaking her head. "But it isn't that bad of a place, I'll give it that much."

Annie frowns, looking up with her big dark eyes. "Eh?" she asks, holding up her fingers.

She squeezes, kisses the fingers, and grins. "Let's get back to writing. That's almost as much Texas as I can handle." She sets Annie in her lap with a toy and leans over her laptop, finishing up her chapter, titled only "Seven."

It needs a title for the whole book, she thinks, hugging Annie closer and typing one-handed.

She'll get to that when she gets to it, but she'll stick with her temporary title for now "Friday Night Lights," she mumbles, reaching over to her outline, beginning the next chapter.


	15. Addiction

A/N: There's a couple more of the darkest timeline snippets (including this one); I've got another Tyra/Landry and some more Taylor Family ones as well, but it's kind of coming down the pike here. Maybe five or six more, unless I get a second wind and come up with some more, but right now I'm running out of ideas :) Thank you for all the reviews, they are very encouraging and I hope to not disappoint with the future chapters! Thanks and enjoy :)

* * *

There's a sign-in sheet at the desk.

It's an innocuous little thing. Just a piece of paper with your name, time in, time out, and who you are there to visit. It's to track visitors, he knows, holding the pen in his hand. He sets it back down on the clipboard, turning and walking out of the building.

He stands outside for a few moments more, his arms crossed.

Why am I here, he wonders, shaking his head. Football players come and go. You move on, they move on. It's high school. Well, now college for him.

Why is it that a strange group of young kids have stuck with him the way they have? Just a couple of them. What made them so different?

One married his daughter. Another gets him tickets to any football game he wants (so long as his client is one of the players). One even gets him tickets to the Super Bowl, since he's been in at least three. The other is…he closes his eyes. He turns back to the door, the writing plain and simple on the outside. "Shady Oaks Rehabilitation Center." What a name. Shady Oaks. Like it was a suspicious tree.

He rakes his fingers through his hair, waiting a beat. It isn't like the other requested him to come. He heard from his son-in-law, during their last visit with the baby. Did you hear about…

He talks to Buddy all the damn time. Not by choice. More Buddy's choice. Never mentioned it.

The second he told his wife, she was already in the car, driving off to go visit. Once upon a time ago she'd been nervous, wondering why he was taking it upon himself to go visit a troubled young kid or bring him into their house with a sixteen year old girl.

He turns back around, goes inside, scribbles his name, and takes the visitor badge from the nurse. "Down the hall and to the right," she says, looking up.

He follows the instructions and goes out into a nice courtyard, where the other man is sitting in a chair, staring off into nothing, wearing the rehab center's dark blue scrub-type clothing. "Hello Tim," he says, approaching him, his hands on his hips.

There's silence.

"Managed to get it out of your brother, but he told me you were here. Said it's just him who visits. Thought you might want to see someone else's ugly face."

He lifts his eyes, which are shaded with dark circles. His face is drawn and his hair is tied back at his neck. He looks skinny. Very skinny. He holds his head in his left hand. There's a plastic ID tag around his wrist and the simple silver wedding band. "You talked to Billy?"

"Yes."

He's quiet. "You talk to my wife?"

He shakes his head. "No." Why are you here, he wonders, leaning his arms on his knees in the chair beside him. He leans back, the question unspoken. It's answered after a second.

"I checked myself in," he whispers, glancing sideways, a wry smile on his lips. "Took my first sip of alcohol at eight, so…about twenty years too late I guess." He sighs; fiddles with his wedding band. "We've been fighting. Fighting about…everything Coach."

He shakes his head. "Marriage isn't easy."

"She wants to work more, I wanted to work more, she says I don't care about her career, I say she doesn't care about my business. I got in an accident." He reaches to his left shoulder, almost grimacing at some sort of phantom pain.

Tami mentioned it to him awhile back. "You fell off some scaffolding?" he asks.

"Stupid new kid on the job wasn't listening, didn't properly tie down the beams, I was harnessed, but still fell two stories before it jerked up on my shoulder." He stares down at the ground, his voice wistful. "Vicodin is not the best thing to give an alcoholic Coach." He props his head back on his hand, smiling loosely. "Drank even more. Too much. Got in my car after a bad fight with her…woke up in the hospital to her crying and me not knowing where the hell I was." He closes his eyes. "She'd threatened to take the baby…so I drank a bottle of scotch and got in my truck."

He takes a deep breath. "Ly came to see me after I got in here…she didn't want to be near me."

Ly…Ly, Ly…not Lyla. He narrows his eyes. "Your daughter?"

"Kid's the only thing I ever did right in my life," he whispers, continuing. He shakes his head. "And I screwed it up. So I'm here. Til' they let me go. Til' they say I'm ready." He scoffs. "Like I have to get rid of a disease or something."

"It is a disease," he says, his voice quiet, but firm. Like the 29-year old beside him is that sixteen year old kid in his office. "It's a disease. You have it. Maybe you functioned okay without it, but it will always be a struggle. You took control. You're here, you never did that before."

He frowns again. "Why are you here Coach?" He turns his head, frowning. "My wife doesn't even come to visit."

"You got a picture of Ly…Lyanna?" He struggles a minute with the name. He can't remember what they call her versus her real name. They call her Ly, like Lee.

It's a minute, but he takes the picture from his pocket, slipping it over, still staring at nothing. "She's ten months," he whispers. "And her last month I've spent here."

The little girl in the photograph is beautiful. He glances back. "You seemed okay..after the wedding and everything." Although he remembers after the prison stint. Although this isn't prison.

He shakes his head again. "I've never been okay Coach. It only goes away when everything's okay, but it's always there. Lyla helped, but…as I said." He laughs, hitting his head back against the chair. "Everything wasn't okay there for awhile."

The honeymoon wore off, he thinks. It always does, it just depends how you deal with it. He takes a deep breath, realizing that this Coach's speech is going to have to sink in. For whatever reason, he knows that he can get through to the other man, the way even his own brother couldn't get through. "Tim," he whispers. He shakes his head. "You're a good man. You wouldn't be here if you weren't. Don't ever think otherwise."

He takes a deep breath, returning the photo. "You are doing a good thing. I'm here because I care, because I've always cared. If I didn't, do you think I'd be here? Do you think I'd visited you in prison or wrote you letters or come to your parole hearing? Do you think I didn't care if I didn't try to give you a place in my family? I do Tim. You have a good family, you've built it, and that's the best kind. Your little girl is going to know that one day. She's going to find out all about this, because you'll tell her and she'll love you more because of it."

He pats his wrist, squeezing lightly. "I have to go, but promise me you'll call?"

There's silence.

"Don't make me tell you to do fifty up-downs."

There's a small smile. "Fine," he whispers, glancing sideways. "I'll call."

"Good." He gets up, walks a few feet, but pauses when hears the quiet "Coach." "Yeah?" he asks, turning his head a little.

"Lyla's got this thing going because…because Ly doesn't have a godparent. She's out there and I'm in here and…I mean, Billy's got five kids, Tyra's in Los Angeles…Buddy's crazy…so…"

He smiles. "I'd be honored."

"Thanks Coach."

"I'll see you next week?"

He smiles, nods. "See you Coach."

He leaves the center, pausing when he sees a familiar brunette walking towards the door, her eyes shielded behind big dark sunglasses, her arms over her chest. "Lyla," he comments, pausing at the curb.

She halts, looking at him. It takes a second for the recognition to come through and she removes her glasses, smiling, her eyes shadowed. "Hi Coach Taylor," she whispers, setting the glasses in her purse. She swallows visibly, her arms going back around her. Her wedding ring is missing, he notices, glancing over his shoulder to the door. "Billy must have told you," she says. She nods, looking down at the ground. "Excuse me."

"Lyla." He doesn't want to get in the middle of things, he never did. Families are like ticking time bombs, you never pull the red wire or the blue wire, because even if you're an expert, there's still that chance it will explode. He walks towards her, his hands on his hips. He smiles a little. "It's good you're here, he's…he seems well."

"Seems, Coach," she whispers, her voice growing cold. She shakes her head. "He's seemed well for the last twenty-nine years. That's the joy of being in love with an addict." She blinks furiously through tears, reaching to rake her fingers through her hair. She shakes it from her eyes, her voice cool. "You never know which person you're going to get when you wake up in the morning."

He doesn't know, he wishes he can help more, but he can't. This isn't high school anymore. While he may still be involved in their lives, while he may still love them like sons he never had…only they can make those important decisions now. All he can do is stand aside and watch.

She shakes her head again, hiccuping. "I should go inside before I lose my nerve."

"Lyla," he whispers again. He smiles. "He really is better. All he wants is to be better for his daughter. That's something that even I can understand."

"I know," she whispers, smiling. She steps backwards. "Thank you Coach." And then she turns around and goes inside.

He waits a minute. A few minutes more.

After about fifteen minutes, when she doesn't come rushing back outside, he just smiles and walks away.

And in a weird way, finally lets go.


	16. Ages

A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews! Much appreciated :) Enjoy some fluffy chapters. Oh and I do have some other stories I plan on posting, but they're just Tim/Lyla and then there's a Tyra fic I really enjoyed writing, which I might start posting, especially since these are winding down a bit. Anyway, thanks for your reviews and encouragement! :)

* * *

"Honey remember what you're supposed to call me?"

Annie sits across from her in the overstuffed armchair in front of the window. She turns, sighing dramatically. At five, everything is dramatic for her. "Gigi, not Grandma."

"Why?"

"Grandma makes you old."

"Makes me feel old, I am not old," she corrects, marking a place in the book she's reading. She sets it aside, clapping her hands and placing them in her lap. "Okay sweetheart, what do you want to do today?"

"Where's Grandpa?"

"Remember what we're supposed to call him?"

Her little face screws up trying to remember. "Oh, yeah," she giggles. "Poppa."

"Because?"

"It's not as old."

"Yes, now come give your Gigi a big kiss and we can decide what to do today." She cuddles her little granddaughter against her, smiling down at her. She tugs on her little bare toes. "Do you want to go see Poppa at the football field?"

"I don't like football."

"Oooh, don't go saying that around Poppa." She picks her up, prepared to take her outside to the car, when the front door opens. She lets out a loud yell as Annie squeals in excitement. "Hey look at that! Poppa's here!"

"Poppa!" Annie yells, reaching for her grandfather, who drops his bag and lifts her up into the air, spinning her around a few times before hugging and giving her a smacking kiss. She giggles, her arms around his neck. "Hi."

"Hello there beautiful little Lorraine Taylor Saracen," he says, kissing her cheek. "How are you today?"

"Fine."

"Just fine?"

She nods, her attention distracted by the stuffed animal sticking out of the orange UT bookstore bag down next to his case, overflowing with quarterback plays. She scrambles down, running over and tugging out the stuffed longhorn, her eyes wide. "Mine?" she asks, turning to look up.

"If you play football with me."

Off to the side, she shakes her head. "Honey you can't get them that young."

"I can try."

"Didn't work with both daughters, what makes you think it's going to work with our granddaughter? Besides, you know Julie won't like it if we send her back going on and on about football."

"No, but her father might," he says, taking Annie's hand and leading her outside to the backyard. He points to the pretty little playhouse they had Tim's company build for her, with a turret, slide, and everything she could imagine in playhouse.

She shakes her head, sighing, and follows them off the back porch to the playhouse, laughing when Annie bests him at racing to the attached swingset, demanding he push her. They both laugh when Annie makes the comment how slow he is because he's old.

"Oh little girl I don't think so," he says, kissing the top of her head. He meets her eyes across the short distance, smiling and glancing down at her. "Do you want to hear a story little Annie?"

"Yes please."

"I'm going to tell you a story about how your mom met your dad."

"Ooh! Like Beauty and the Beast?"

"No," she immediately says, lifting an eyebrow as he's considering that version. She sits down on the other swing, dragging her heels in the soft patch of dirt beneath them. "That is not how the story goes of your mommy and daddy."

The little girl's eyes grow dark. "Is there football?"

They both laugh. "Of course there's football," he says, pushing her on the swing. "And it's a good story too."

"Your mommy wrote a book about it," she says, glancing up at him, smiling serenely. "She's famous for it."

"That book is an exaggeration."

"It's fiction honey. She didn't want to get the release forms signed to use real names, but yes it is real."

He rolls his eyes, mumbling something she can't hear, but it sounds suspiciously like "I'm still going to kill her." She smiles, reaching over and takes her granddaughter's hand, holding it as they swing together.

And after a few minutes more, he takes the other swing and her other hand and they all swing together, smiling at each other over the top of Annie's little blonde head.


	17. Chances

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews :) There's another Tyra and then another Matt/Julie. As I stated before, it's kind of tapering down, but there's probably five or six more little chapters, some longer than others. Thanks for sticking with this everyone :) I'm glad people are enjoying.

* * *

Sometimes you can marry your best friend, she thinks, sitting at her desk, in her school, studying the photo and the accompanying announcement. It proclaimed "Just Married!" and had their names, date of marriage, and how happy Pamela and Buddy Garrity and Billy and Mindy Riggins were to proclaim their daughter and brother's marriage. Maybe not who she married, she thinks with a small smile, tucking the pretty photo of the two of them into the envelope it came in.

She makes a mental note to comment how the two of them could get away with not inviting any of their friends, as well as the fact he couldn't even shave for his own wedding.

"Ms. Collette?"

She looks up when one of her students walks in "Hey Jeremy," she says with a smile, turning in her seat and leaning forward, making sure to meet his eyes.

He tries to break away, but she lifts an eyebrow and he swallows, forcing himself to look her in the eye. It's a technique she's teaching them, to make the eye contact and talk to someone, not at them. "How can I help you?" she asks, rather than wondering out loud why he isn't with the rest of the kids at recess.

"I like Mary Everett," he announces. He sets a card on her desk. "Can you give this to her?"

She takes the card, construction paper and everything. "You like her? Does she like you?"

He says nothing, because he doesn't understand what that means. She smiles, folding the card back together and setting it on her desk. "Why don't you tell her?"

"Because," he answers. He looks at his feet and begins to flap his left hand, one of his tics. "Scary."

"It's very scary," she whispers, smiling and reaching towards his hand, but doesn't touch it. It will startle him. She bends her head so she can look him in the eye, her dark braid falling over her shoulder. "Jeremy sometimes doing things is very scary, but we do them because even if they don't turn out the way we think, at least we can say we did them. We can take a chance."

"Chance?"

She thinks about her coming out here to Los Angeles. The fear, the uncertainty, and the odd bit of fate it was that she should have a friend with her. A dear, very close friend. One who she let crash in the guest room of her little bungalow on the beach his first few months in L.A. Or whose concerts she always attended. Whose tour bus she got to travel on when it was summers and she wasn't working.

Friends, she thinks, smiling again at Jeremy. "Tell her you like her and you want to be her friend. Starting out as friends is always good and I think that Mary might like it." Mary didn't have any friends. Not many of the kids did.

He pauses and the nods. "Okay." He leaves the card and walks off out of the room, not bothering to say sorry to the man walking in after him.

"Kid's in a hurry," he comments.

"Hey," she laughs, standing up and leaning back against her desk. She folds her arms over her chest. "What are you doing here?"

"You wanted me to talk to your principal about having a benefit show for the school? I managed to get some of my newfound rock god buddies to come and give the show with me."

"You do not have rock god buddies, you're as much a groupie as everyone else is," she says. She glances down at the red paper card, asking Mary to be Jeremy's friend. She cocks her head again. "How long have we been out here?"

He leans against the desk next to her, stealing some of the sugar-free candies she keeps at her desk for the kids. "Well, Christmas, so…almost two years."

She nods, reaching backwards and picking up the card, along with the wedding announcement. "Did you ever think its possible to find the love of your life in your best friend?" she asks, looking through her bangs at him.

He's quiet for a few seconds, looking at the announcement. "I wouldn't call those two best friends."

"What would you all them?"

"Gasoline and a match?"

She laughs, still holding the construction paper card. Little kids can help you see some pretty important things. She takes a deep breath. Take a chance. Just say it. Sometimes not doing so is what you regret the most. She turns her head. "Landry…can we have dinner tonight? Talk?"

He picks up the wedding announcement, turning it over to read the back. "Sure," he says, setting it back down and smiling, hopping off the desk. "I gotta' get back to the studio, we're cutting our second record."

Who in the hell listens to that stuff, she thinks, but smiles and nods, ever the supportive friend. Someone liked the music enough to buy it and make the band well-known. "Okay. I'll see you tonight for dinner? I have something I want to talk to you about."

"Is it serious?"

"Sort of…I…" she bites her lower lip, crossing her arms over her chest. "I want to alk about us."

He clams up. "Oh…oh…okay. That's fine. You want me to pick you up?"

"How about just dinner at my place? Seven?" She looks up when the bell rings, signaling the end of the recess. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her skirt. "I have to get back to work. See you then."

She watches him leave, a little confused at her sudden seriousness. She's a little confused herself, but…she doesn't want to waste anymore time. She wants to take that chance. Tell someone you like them, tell someone you love them, just tell them.

When her students file back in for class, she can't help but contain herself and decides to talk to them about following your dreams, because hell, even if it doesn't seem to work out the way you imagine, it still feels pretty damn good, she thinks with a wide smile.


	18. Gone

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! And don't worry, Tyra hasn't lost her edge, I just wrote a Tyra-Lyla chapter where she goes back to old Tyra, :) This chapter is on the sad side, but it goes right back to happy with a Julie/Coach/Matt one after. And again, thanks for the reviews, they are much appreciated. And as for this chapter, don't worry, it seems like its all angst for Tim and Lyla, but that seems the most realistic for me to write for both of those characters and the way they were written on the show, but I do have a happy one already written.

* * *

There's a sound of shattering glass from downstairs. She hears babies crying. There's no yelling, just the sounds of the glass getting cleaned, and finally the comforting creak of the staircase and someone comes back upstairs.

She stares outside. It's raining. Seriously? It couldn't have been sunny or something? There's too many people in her house right now, too many people trying to be nice to her, stifling her. She has to get away, so she's up here now, staring at the rain, fiddling with the silver cross on her necklace, she's had since as far as she can remember.

The door to the bedroom opens and then closes.

"You didn't like that vase on the table in the front hall did you?"

She takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly, her voice quiet after a second of reflection. "That was a gift from my mother." Her mother, who is horrid, and can't be bothered to fly from California to be with her children for this day. She simply sent an arrangement of flowers with figs from their farm.

"Sorry."

"I hated it," she whispers. She leans against the wall, her arms wrapping around herself. She's wearing one of his sweatshirts, the worn cotton feeling…warm around her black sheath dress. She's long kicked off her black heels, but her hair is still tied back at the base of her neck.

He stands behind her, hovering protectively. His voice is quiet. "You should eat something."

"Not hungry."

There's more silence, because she knows him well enough to know he is not going to say anything, until she turns around, facing him, still fiddling with her cross. She clears her throat, her focus narrowing on the blue yarn around his wrist. "Um…why is there…"

"You put it around Will's ankle again to tell them apart, didn't you?" He's smiling, finding it amusing that she's a horrible mother who cannot tell her children apart. He reaches for her, his arms wrapping around her shoulders, cradling her head to his shoulder, rubbing her back soothingly. "It's okay."

"I'm a terrible mother," she cries. "I can't even tell my kids apart."

He smiles, but says nothing, his fingers finally wrapping around hers, their hands squeezing together. After a moment, he shakes his head, his free hand lifting to cup her cheek. "No," he whispers. "You are an amazing mother Lyla. They're identical twins for the reason. They're identical."

"You can tell them apart."

"Yeah, but it's a guy thing." He smiles again, finally wrapping his arm around her waist, holding her to him, their foreheads touching. His nose brushes against hers. "You really should go downstairs Lyla."

She shakes her head, wiping at her eyes and holding onto him tighter. "I can't."

"Garrity…almost everyone's gone; it's just the family now." He wipes her tears from her cheeks. His voice is gravelly; she forgets that this is affecting him as much as her. "What do you want me to do?"

I want you to hold me, she thinks, her arms tight around him. Hold and never let go and if she asks, he'll do it, so she doesn't ask, and just remains in his arms. Although this is silly and selfish of her to hide away in her room while everyone else is downstairs, probably cleaning up all the food, mess, and maybe even reminiscing, which is what she fears the most. "Are my brother and sister still there?"

"Yeah." He kisses her temple. "I'm here for you Garrity. You were there for me."

No I wasn't. She closes her eyes around tears, shaking her head, her hands going to his, squeezing. "No," she whispers, smiling a little, sad. "No I wasn't. I'm horrible. I threatened to take your daughter away from you and made you worse."

"I made me worse," he corrects. He barely remembers some of those dark days, that period of three months where all they did was fight, yell, hate each other, resent each other…and in the meantime she became addicted to saving kids from bad hits and tackles and he became addicted to painkillers and lost control of his drinking. Only one of them practically killed themselves because of it.

She buries her face in his chest. "My dad helped me, when you were in the center. He never once told me to divorce you or take the baby or anything. He told me to fight, because you were a good guy and I couldn't forget that." She lifts her face to him. "He convinced me to fight harder, because what we had was worth saving. My dad. I was the one who had to convince him, all those years ago and…and even if he'd always make jabs and comments…deep down he still just wanted me happy."

The bedroom door opens and she looks over, seeing Ly and Rosie standing there.

"Mommy come downstairs," Ly pipes up.

Rosie nods, the quiet one, holding out her stuffed teddy bear with a missing eye and leg. "Peg Leg Bear make you feel better," she says, the youngest one, who still doesn't know what is going on.

He lets go of her, walking over to the girls, picking up Rosie and setting her on the edge of the bed. "Go on over Ly, Mommy will sit with you. I'll be right back." He meets her eyes and she nods, walking over to the bed to sit with her girls, cuddling them against her.

They don't understand, she thinks, stroking Ly's long dark hair. "Will you play football with me today?" she asks, tilting her face up.

"Sorry baby, not today. It's muddy and rainy."

"Uncle Coach says that's the best time to play football."

She chuckles, kissing the top of her head again. "Uncle Coach might be right, but I want you here with me, okay? Make Mommy feel better."

They lay together on the huge bed, with all the pillows, with Rosie falling asleep a minute later and Ly soon drifting off. The door opens again and she turns her head, smiling as he carries in her boys, who are awake, their dark hair sticking up like little Mohawks.

He sets Xavier in her arms and holds onto Will, the identical boys wearing similar t-shirts and little sweatpants, but Will is wearing blue and Xavier red. They're huge for their age, big and healthy little brusiers.

"He was really happy I moved back to Dillon, wasn't he?"

He smiles. "I don't think he was happy because it was because of me, but…you're a Stanford doctor, Lyla Garrity. You're a specialist in high school sports medicine. He was very proud."

"He really did love you," she says, reaching to squeeze his hand. She shakes her head, laughing, feeling a swell in her heart. "Remember our wedding day?"

"How could I forget, he interrupted the vows and asked you if you were sure."

She laughs, because it's easier to do than to cry. Her eyes close, smiling at the happy memories. "And how when I was pregnant with Ly, he'd buy her football jerseys and baby cleats. Even though we knew it was a girl he kept saying he'd make a football player out of his first grandchild."

"And when Will and Xavier were born he already put their names down as Dillon linebackers," he smiles, tilting her face back to him. He rests his forehead against hers, his voice quiet. "He loved you, he was very proud of you."

"And you too," she whispers. She blinks. "He was the first client you ever had."

"Yeah, he wanted that addition to the mansion and made me knock into two bearing walls, took me three months to finish."

She frames his face in her hands. They've come so far. Every time she thinks it might over, something comes in and changes it up, makes them fight harder. "I don't want to lose you." Maybe death makes you think about your life a bit harder. She shakes her head again. "You're all I have. I don't want to lose you."

He frowns. "You won't."

"I almost did."

"And I almost lost you. It won't happen again. I promise."

The six of them lay together, until she finally untangles herself, turning and looking down at all of them. They sleep identically, she thinks with a small smile. She reaches into her pocket, removing the state ring the doctors gave her with the rest of the effects. She turns it over and over again in her hand, getting up and walking to her dresser.

She sets it delicately against the framed photo of the two of them on her wedding day. She smiles in memory. No one knew except him and Billy, until they all showed up. He followed her around non-stop making sure she was "sure." Good intentions, bad way of handling them.

"Goodbye Daddy," she whispers, releasing the ring and turning, walking back to the bed and crawling back into his arms. She smiles in content when he kisses the top of her head, holding her closer.


	19. Okay

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews :) Only one more "sad" chapter and then it's back to fluffiness. :) I have six more chapters after this one already written and am trying to get through one more and then I'll be done I think :) Unless there's some more inspiration for other snippets.

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He stands in the center of the New York gallery, turning slowly in a circle to survey the artwork he's donated for this event. One of the art critics he knows comes up to talk about the lights and darks he used, but he just nods along not wanting to engage.

This isn't his night.

He looks back towards the back of the gallery, where she's standing with another critic, this one literary, and her agent, laughing about the book, whose cover is blown up in the back of the room, along with multiple copies set out here and there. What did they call this thing, a book opening? Some stupid thing she doesn't want to do, but she's here nonetheless.

"So did you read it?"

"Oh good, someone I know," he sighs, looking over at his father-in-law. He shakes his head, his hands in his pockets, his eyes darting back to his wife. "No. Haven't read it. Yet."

"It's pretty good." He smiles, his eyes crinkling up. "She does you justice. Maybe gives you too much credit."

He rolls his eyes. They've been at this for so long now it doesn't bug him the way it used to. If Coach Taylor doesn't rib on him then he's going to wonder what's wrong. He nods towards the entrance. "Where's Mrs. Coach?" He still cannot bring himself to call her Mom or Tami. It feels too weird.

"She's at the hotel with Gracie. They'll be here later."

Across the room, she listens as one of the literary critics comments on her novel, saying it is one of the best written books he's ever read, how everyone else agrees. She just nods along, still not used to all the accolades she's getting.

She sips the glass of champagne someone hands her. "Thank you," she says over and over again. She tries to steer conversation to the beautiful paintings inspired by their lives in Texas. There's been no talk again of moving back. She understands it; sometimes she feels it, that homesick pang for something familiar.

Only it fades, after she hugs her daughter, sees how happy she is in Evanston, where they moved so she can get her Master's degree at Northwestern. She knows his paintings are selling well, Smash bought a few of them and now the entire NFL seems to use him as their personal art dealer.

"So is it real?"

She glances sideways to the New York Times literary critic. She smiles. "Is what real?"

"The book. It's a novel, but…you write from a place of truth. Is it all real? Seven, Six, Crash, and the other guy, what's his name?"

"In the book I call him Ryder," she says, already knowing what he's asking. She sips her champagne. "Do you think they're real?"

The critic frowns, his brow wrinkling. "I think that some of it seems too unreal to be truth. The obsession, the zeal and fervor of one small town for a sport? It seems exaggerated. Written brilliantly, vividly, and with great imagination, but yes, exaggerated for the points you are attempting to make about small-town life."

She smiles slightly, lifting an eyebrow. "Well sir, you obviously have never been to Dillon, Texas."

"Hey sweetheart."

"Daddy." She leans in to kiss his cheek, turning him towards her agent and the critic. "This is my father, Coach Eric Taylor."

"Ah, Coach, so you're the guy in the book," the critic says, shaking his hand. "Your daughter is a fantastic author and you can quote me on that." He smiles in her direction. "If you excuse me, I have a review to go write."

She excuses herself from her agent, stepping aside in front of one of the paintings of an empty stretch of field with nothing but a house on a hill in the distance. It's one of her favorites, she hopes he doesn't sell it, because she wants it in their condo, back in Evanston.

"Where's Mom?" she asks, twirling the glass of champagne around in her fingertips.

"Hotel with Gracie, they'll be here soon." He narrows his eyes on the painting, tapping the corner, recognizing the horizon. "This is Tim's land."

"He lets Matt go paint there; Matt says it's…inspiration." She smiles, looking over at her husband, who is awkwardly trying to navigate a sale of one of the paintings with one of the higher profile editors invited by her agent, as well as the gallery owner allowing them to have this event there. She shakes her head. "It's a wonder he can get his shoes on in the morning," she mumbles.

They stand quiet for a few minutes and she looks up at him, suddenly feeling tears in her eyes. It's so silly. She sniffs, looking up at him and then turns away when she sees his expression immediately flash with concern.

She waves her hand, lifting her finger to drag under her eyelash, so doesn't smear her mascara. "I…I don't know why," she sniffs, taking a deep breath and shaking her head. "It's all…here, you know? The book, Matt's paintings…we're married and we have a kid and…it's all kind of worked out, you know?"

She blinks through tears, letting him wrap his arms around her tight, kissing the top of her head, like she's five years old again. "I love you Julie," he whispers, swaying lightly with her. His voice is thick. "And I am so proud of you."

I'm proud too, she thinks, looking over his shoulder at her husband again. She pulls back, reaching to wipe her eyes again. "Come on," she says, taking his hand and leading him back into the crowd. "I think Mom's here."

The night went on and the next morning, she sits at the edge of the bed in her hotel room, listening to her husband snore behind her, their daughter snuffling in her bed, and she holds the New York Times Arts section in her fingers, smiling down at the great review her book got.

It really was all coming together, she thinks, tossing it aside and crawling back up to the top of the bed, hugging her husband tight.


	20. Hope

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Enjoy :)

"And this is your room…" she trails off, unsure how else to proceed other than to just stand there in the room she's tried to decorate with as much girly stuff as she can think of. She bites her lower lip "If you don't like anything….we can take it back and get something you do like."

The six-year old says nothing, but sits on the edge of the twin bed with the pink and white checked quilt, holding a ratty stuffed rabbit under her arm. She looks up, her face shadowed by her strawberry blonde hair. "Thank you," she whispers, looking to her feet.

This isn't going to be easy, everyone told her she's insane for doing this, but she wants to help. She nods, looking through the adjacent room to her sister's. "Joey is in there, if you want to go…" the little girl is already running through the connecting bathroom to sit with her sister, who is four.

He comes up behind her, his hands in his pockets, looking at both the little girls sitting on the floor, huddling together. "It'll be okay," he says, his hand going to rub her shoulder. "She's confused. One minute they're living in separate foster homes and now…"

"I know, I know, I just…I want to help, but I can't." She turns away from him, going into the bedroom and smiling down at the little girls. "You guys, why don't we go downstairs? Are you hungry?"

They both shake their heads, their blue eyes haunted. What have you seen, she wonders, reaching to pick up their coats. "I'll go hang these in the front closet, okay? I'll come up and check on you, but we'll have dinner, okay? You're going to meet my sister and her husband and a couple friends of mine, they've come all the way from Texas and Illinois."

Hope, the six-year old, frowns. "Texas?" she whispers.

"Yeah, it's a really big state, its where I grew up. My mommy still lives here, she's going to come visit in a couple weeks, I think you'll like her." It's her mother who is trying to be supportive of this, but she can't blame her for being a tiny bit upset. She wants babies to hold, not troubled young girls from the foster system.

They're quiet again, so she gets up and leaves them, going downstairs to unpack some of the groceries they stopped to buy. "Maybe this isn't a good idea," she whispers, holding a box of graham crackers shaped like Scooby Doo. She turns to look at them. "I don't know…"

"They're scared and nervous Tyra and don't say it's not a good idea." He leans his shoulder against hers. He's equally terrified of this…adventure they've got themselves on. He smiles. "They're just scared as you are. One minute they're living in a group home and wondering if they'll ever have a home and now they're living in a suburban Los Angeles house. They'll be okay."

"Maybe I should call off my insane family."

"Julie and Matt can still come right?"

She smiles. "They're not insane."

The doorbell rings and then the door just opens, her sister squealing and running inside with a horde of little kids behind her. "Ty-Ty! Where are they? I want to hug them!"

She grabs her sisters shoulders, jerking her into the study. "No, they're terrified. They're still nervous about being here, so don't go hugging them."

"Oh." Mindy frowns. "Where are they?"

She looks up the staircase. "Joey! Hope! There's some people here I'd like you guys to meet, come downstairs please!"

After a second, the little girls emerge on the staircase, holding hands and looking at the odd mix of red-headed and tow-headed boys, along with Ellie and she frowns, noting that Ly is with them, sitting up in Billy's arms watching with her sad gray eyes. "What's Ly doing here?" she whispers to Mindy.

Mindy looks up, shaking her head slightly. "Short version of the story is we took her to give them a break. They're getting used to each other again and it's not going well."

"Yeah, I know," she whispers, looking over her sister's head at the door opening again, seeing Julie coming into the house holding Annie's hand, while she heard a muffled 'ow' from outside. "Matt! Don't kill yourself," she mumbles, stepping aside her sister and reaching to hug Ly. The little girl needed it, after what she'd been through the past few months.

It's very loud, she thinks, her eyes darting towards Joey and Hope. "Hey guys," she says, turning towards all her nephews and leaning her hands on her knees. "Why don't you go outside okay?"

It's all they need before running out whooping and yelling, even little Ellie chasing after her big brothers. Ly remains in the room with Annie, the two of them roughly the same age and both of them quiet.

She glances back to Joey, who is peeking around the corner, wanting to go out with the rest of the boys. "You can go," she says with a smile, kneeling to the young girl's height. Their mother was a drug addict and their father in prison. Both renounced their parental rights when she was born, leaving the two of them at the mercy of the foster system.

Where I found you, she thinks, reaching to hug her quickly before opening the door. "Make sure you guys stay up here!" she calls, knowing that that's silly, since Stevie and the twins have most likely already decided to go investigate in the bit of woods they have behind their house.

"Come on Ly," Billy says, picking up the little girl and carting her out, Mindy and Landry soon following.

Julie comes over to her, hugging quick. "It's so good you're doing this for those girls."

Maybe I can help at least one girl from turning into what I could have become, she thinks to herself, releasing Julie's hold on her and watching them walk outside with the rest of them. She turns, smiling at Hope. "Do you want to go outside and play with them?"

"No," Hope whispers.

She takes a deep breath, slowly releasing it and goes over to sit on the couch. Hope walks around in front of her, studying her carefully. "I'm not…" she begins, taking another breath. She smiles. "I'm not going to abandon you Hope. You're here to live with me and with Landry…we're not going to hurt you like those places did, I promise."

Her voice is soft. "They said that too."

Oh honey, she thinks, closing her eyes, trying not to cry. She nods, folding her fingers together and squeezing. "I know, I know they did." She bites her lower lip again. "But this time you're safe."

"They're very loud," Hope whispers, after a minute.

She snorts behind her hand, smiling and nodding. She lowers her hand back to her lap. "Yes, they are. Mindy is my older sister. She's always been very loud."

Hope crawls up next to her, sitting quietly for a moment. She looks up, her eyes still dark and shadowed. "Why don't you have babies?" she asks.

It's a six-year old version of asking why did you adopt us, she translates to herself. She looks down at her hands and then to Hope. "I can't," she explains, as easy as she can. She takes a deep breath. "Sometimes some people can't have babies, so…so they adopt them and I…after I met you, I wanted to adopt you."

It was a visit with a friend of hers to the adoption agency. They were going to talk to some parents about the autistic school and there in the room she saw Hope and Joey and something just…clicked. She can't explain it. A need to help them, to protect them…love them.

I want to help those who were as confused as me, save them from becoming what I could very well have become if I didn't change my life and dig myself out, she thinks, reaching to touch Hope's small hand. "Do you want to come outside and see everyone? They're loud, but…but Mindy and Billy are very nice. My friends Matt and Julie are outside too, they're very nice as well."

"Matt talks funny."

She stifles a laugh. To Hope they all must sound a little funny. "Matt mumbles."

"Mumbles?"

"Yes, he mumbles," she laughs, picking up Hope off the couch. She smiles down at her and offers her hand. "One day, if you want, we can go to Texas where Mindy and Billy live…my mom is going to come out next month to see you and we can see her and…" she bites her lower lip. "And maybe even one day you can meet Ly's parents, because they're kind of our family too."

"Who is Ly?"

"The little baby with the dark hair? That's Ly."

"Oh, okay." She pauses, looking up again. "Miss Tyra?"

She smiles, nodding. It will take a long, long time before either of them are going to call them Mom and Dad, which is fine with her, she just wants the girls to be happy here, to have a home and dreams and fears and wants and wishes just like her. "Yeah?" she asks.

The little girl fidgets with her hands, looking out the big glass doors onto the porch and beyond to where everyone is sitting around and the kids playing about. She turns around and looks up, terrified, even more than she was when they brought her from the group home to this place.

"What if they don't like me?" she breathes.

She kneels, her hand going to Hope's cheek, framing her face. "Hope," she whispers. "This family is…it's full of people who love each other who…who aren't related like you and your sister. It's like we all adopted each other, the way Landry and I adopted you and your sister." She grins wide. "And everyone is going to love you."

Hope nods, wringing her hands again and going out onto the porch. She follows with her, watching carefully as the little girl starts on the outside and within minutes is playing on the swingset with Stevie, the twins, and the little one, Jimmy. Annie, Ly, and Joey are playing with Ellie in the grass.

Julie starts asking about where they're going to put them in school and whether or not she knows that this is insane, but it's still really cool what they're doing. She starts to bicker with Mindy, Billy and Matt begin to fight over the latest plays that the Panthers are running, and Landry comes up beside her.

"You okay?"

"Fine," she says, quiet. She takes another breath. "This is crazy, what we're doing."

"Do you want it?"

It's how he frames a lot of the questions these days. Do you want it? If you do, then go for it. If you don't, forget it. They're living an insane life, she thinks, living in California, going on nice vacations and using up the rest of Landry's music money, now that he's done with that and finally falling back on his engineering degree.

She nods, reaching out to hug him quickly. "Yes, I do."

"Good, now you go out there with everyone and I'm going to go hide the silver, because your sister was eyeing it and I'm thinking that…"

"Landry my sister is not going to touch anything of yours, trust me on that." She kisses his cheek and goes off to join everyone else.


	21. Rain

A/N: This is the last "angsty" chapter but I felt it needed to be written into this little fic. I've got five more chapters after this one (including an 'epilogue' of sorts from a very different character) and then from there, maybe I might still add to this fic. Not sure yet. Thanks for the reviews/comments. :)

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"What is wrong with you!?"

"What is wrong with you!?" she yells, slamming a glass into the sink rather than at him. She turns around, glaring at him standing in the center of the kitchen. She leans on the island, her eyes closing. "I can't keep doing this."

"You should just divorce me and get it over with."

"For the thousandth time, I don't want a divorce!" She looks over at him, wishing he'd eat or something; because he's so skinny she can see his damn bones. She rakes her fingers through her hair, eyes closing again. "If you want a divorce…"

"I don't." He swallows hard, his throat bobbing. His hands go to his hips and he stares off to the side. "I…you're leaving."

"I'm not going…" she closes her eyes again. "It's not going Tim; I'm just going to stay with my father…" She wants to stay with him, she wants to help him, but he isn't letting her. He's been home all of three weeks and she can't keep doing this. This passive aggressive thing they've been doing the last year, barely speaking…it's too damn difficult. "I'm trying to fix you!"

"Fix me!?" he exclaims. He throws his hands in the air. "Fact Lyla, you can't fix me! You couldn't fix Jason, you couldn't fix your damn life, and you can't fix anything!"

She digs her fingers into her skull, crying out in frustration. "I just want you better! I'm trying to make you better!"

"I'm an alcoholic Lyla, you can't make me better! Aren't you a doctor? The sooner you realize that, the better off you'll be!" He's defeated, closing his eyes and hitting his head backwards against the wall. "Only I can fix it."

She walks around the kitchen island, stepping towards him and pausing, unsure where to put her hands, so she reaches to touch his forearm, her fingers wrapping around, squeezing. "I know," she says, closing her eyes around tears. "I know you're trying and I…I want you to…to know that…" She takes a deep breath. "I just want you to be you and you're not."

His eyes are dull. "I screwed up. Of course I'm not me."

It wasn't him. "I shouldn't have left." She hiccups. "I screwed up." They both did, she thinks, reaching to frame his face. She touches her forehead to his. "I am so in love with you. I just want to help you."

And I don't need your help, he thinks, holding her face in his hands. I just need you. He kisses her cheek, his arms going to her shoulders, holding tight. "I'm not doing this for you," he says.

"I know." It's the baby, he's doing it for the baby. This is no longer about what she wants versus what he wants. This is about the little person they helped create and who is helpless and doesn't care about careers, alcohol, or their history. She sobs, backing away and releasing him, turning around to look outside. "I have to go, I can't stay…I distract you."

"Lyla."

"No, I…the doctor told me, I'm a doctor I know, I understand, you…you need stability and I am not stability. I work over fifteen hours days, I travel a lot, and…and I think that it will be better for you…medically…for me to stay with my dad for awhile." He says nothing, so she leaves, going to the front door and picking up her bag. The baby is with Billy and Mindy in California, visiting Tyra. It's good for them both that she's not here for this.

It's pouring rain, so she rushes to the car, throwing her bag into the backseat. She stands outside the car, looking up at the porch where he's standing.

It's been three weeks since he left that place, almost three months since she opened the door to two police officers asking her to come to the hospital, where she found him in a bed, handcuffed because they were charging him with a DUI. Almost six months since they first started to fight, not long after Ly was born.

He threw himself into his business, since he had at least three government building contracts, which meant a hell of a lot of money. Only she'd just had a baby, she was alone most of the day. She went back to work, keeping him with the baby. Work started exploding for her. S he was traveling around all over Texas. Started traveling across the country and then this opportunity in Africa popped up, for two weeks, helping out a clinic. So she went, because it's all she wanted to do was make a difference and help.

At what cost, she'd soon learned.

The rain soaks into her skin, her fingers are shaking. She closes her eyes again and sobs, because she doesn't want this. She turns and stares back at him. "What do you want me to do?" she sobs.

He shakes his head. "I don't know Lyla, what do you want?"

"I want you" she screams over the sound of the rain.

His arms fall out to his sides. "What if you can't have me?"

She turns in circles, reaching to hold her head in her hands, until she can't think. And then she decides. "I'm going to have you," she whispers.

She turns and runs towards him, only to crash into him, their lips furiously taking each other, her hands tearing at his shirt, trembling and slipping from the rain. He pushes her backwards against the car, holding her as she begins to push against him, wanting to hit him so hard for everything he's put her through, but his fingers dig in too deep to her skin, preventing her from freeing her hands.

They break away and she touches her lips to his again. "You, I want you."

He smiles and pulls her face back against his, both of them standing in the middle of the damn rain, holding nothing but each other, because that's the only thing either of them can do at this point.

She smiles against him, remembering an odd moment, something similar to this. Instead of stopping him, she just kisses him again, pushing him back towards the house.

They can fight inside.


	22. Accidents

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. :) After this chapter there are only five more chapters, just FYI.

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"Oh crap." She sets the stick down on the counter, running her tongue over her teeth a few times. She glances back at it and then tosses the thing into the trash, washes her hands, and leaves the bathroom, returning to the party.

Outside on the deck, she frowns at her dad throwing his hands in the air as Buddy Garrity chases after him. "I thought we were done with that," she comments, sitting down on the couch beside her mother.

"Oh, well you know, if it's not one thing it's something else," her mother comments, not sounding thrilled about the idea of Buddy Garrity trying to convince her dad of something now. She sighs. "He wants him to come back to Dillon for some name ceremony thing. I don't know." She places her hand on her knee. "You alright sweetheart? You've been in the bathroom a long time."

"Uh…yeah…um, stomach bug." She pushes up from the couch, not wanting to talk about this now. She's not even twenty-five; it wasn't supposed to happen this soon.

In the back room of the house Gracie screams about something; over her shoulder she can see her husband of barely a year trying to convince her about something. Oh hell, she has no idea, Gracie's been so weird lately.

There's tons of people she doesn't know, from her parents' new life in Philadelphia. She goes upstairs, into their bedroom, and closes the door behind her, sinking down onto the edge of the bed, her hands in her lap.

What now?

"I need a drink," she mumbles, falling backwards, her head hitting the pillow. She rolls to the side, opening up the nightstand drawer, expecting to find some aspirin or something. What she does find, is a letter from UT.

Her eyes dart to the door, which is still closed. She sits up, unfolding the letter. "Dear Mr. Taylor, we respectfully request your consideration of our university..." she reads aloud, scanning the rest of the letter. Quarterback coach for UT.

They're going back, she thinks, folding the letter back and shoving it into the nightstand just as the door creaks, opening slowly. "Hey Dad," she says, biting her lower lip. "Happy birthday."

"Yeah, well the party was your mom's idea." He closes the door, going over to sit beside her. "Mom said you came up here a few minutes ago, you feeling okay?"

"Fine, why does everyone keep asking me that?" she demands, defensive.

He narrows his eyes, studying her for a minute. "Because you don't seem yourself."

She blows out a hard breath. This is so stupid…she can't…she doesn't want to tell her mother. Or Matt. Or anyone, but…she also can't keep this to herself, its straining at her. She closes her eyes. "Dad, you can't tell anyone."

"Can't tell anyone what? Julie are you in some sort of trouble?"

The old fashioned wording of her…situation, makes her giggle. She covers her face with her hands. "Um, not really, just…" she glances sideways, lifting her finger up. "You can't tell Mom."

He cocks his head. "Julie."

"Or hurt Matt."

"Why would I hurt Matt?"

We'll see, she thinks, biting her lower lip. She sighs again. "I'm pregnant."

He draws back almost immediately, turning his head to stare off at the floor. He glances back, meeting her gaze. "Julie," he whispers, shaking his head and sighing, his breath rattling. "I…I don't…"

"I didn't want to be," she says, again defensive. I feel stupid just saying it. She blinks through tears, reaching to cover her face with her hands, stifling a sob. She shakes her head again. "I just…just wanted it to be us, you know? I'm not even twenty-five and I'm married and pregnant, I…I want more time!"

He smiles, reaching to wrap his arms around her, holding her like she's sixteen and upset again. His chin rests atop her head. "You'll have time," he whispers, rubbing her back. "I promise you will Julie. This isn't the end of the world."

"What if it is? I'm pregnant! We can barely make rent with what Matt makes at the gallery and the loft isn't big enough for us and…and…" she can't even say the list of excuses right now, although there tons of them bouncing around in her head.

He pulls back, kissing her forehead. "You will be fine. I know you will."

She frowns. "You're oddly calm Dad."

"It will sink in later."

"Okay."

"And you are going to tell Matt."

She covers her face with her hands. "He's going to freak out on me. This was not planned, I don't…don't know what he's going to do. We never even talked about kids Dad. They…not until we had everything we wanted."

"And you will have everything you want." He squeezes her one last time, getting up and walking towards the door, just as it opened again. "Matt."

"Coach." He frowns over at her. "Um…you…you okay? Your mom said you looked kind of sick…"

She glances at her father. Do not say anything, do not kill him, do not do anything, she tries to say one last time, just in a look. It works and he's scowling at Matt, but does nothing, just lifts his eyebrow at her and then walks out, closing the door behind him. He's off to tell her mother, she's sure of it. They can't do anything without the other knowing, especially about their children.

"Um…" she gets off the bed, just to put her hands on his elbows and turn around, setting him down at the edge. She twists her hands around, looking down at him. "I…have something to tell you."

He blinks a few times. "And?"

"I'm sick because…because…I took this test…"

"I thought you were done with classes."

She rolls her eyes. "Not that kind of a test Matt. I took a pregnancy test and I'm pregnant." There, she says it, its done, over.

He gapes at her. His face turns a bit green and for a brief second she wonders if he's going to be the sick one in a minute. "Um…so you mean like…" he holds his hands in front of his stomach. "That kind of…"

She frowns, her arms over her chest. "Yes, that kind of pregnant, what kind of a pregnant do you think I was?"

"I don't know! You say you're not feeling well, I come to check on you, and you're pregnant!" He laughs, looking at the door and pointing. "Oh my God ,your dad knows, doesn't he?"

"Yes, he knows."

"Your mom is going to kill me! You know she didn't want you to be like her."

And I don't want to be her, she thinks, but I can think of other people I want to be like even less. She sits beside him. "I don't know how it happened…had to be a few weeks ago and…" she closes her eyes. "That thing in Texas we went to. The ring ceremony! Smash and Riggins got you drunk and I felt bad for you so…"

"I was not drunk," he mumbles, looking down at her. He smiles. "So…a baby, right?"

"Right," she laughs. She leans back on the bed, looking up and smiling. "I guess that trip to Europe is going to have to wait until after."

He lies down beside her, his head propped up on his hand. "So what now?"

"Now? Now we go downstairs to the rest of the party." He sits up, offering her his hands and drawing her up to her feet. He smiles wide. "A baby."

"Yeah." She laughs, just as he pulls her towards him, kissing her lightly. She pats his chest. "Let's go downstairs. I have to tell my mom now, since my dad probably already told her."

They go back downstairs, pausing on the landing, before she can see her parents anywhere else in the room. She looks up at him, smiling again. "Promise me this won't…won't be the end of…of us."

His brow wrinkles. "Why would it be the end?"

"We're so young and we still have so much to do…"

He reaches to hug her towards him, kissing her head. "We will, this is just one more thing to…to have fun with. We can do this Julie."

She nods, reaching to kiss him. "I love you."

He only smiles, kissing her one more time. "I love you too. Now let's go before your mom explodes, I can see her over there watching."

She laughs, but has to agree.


	23. Besties

A/N: THanks for the reviews :) I have a Tyra/Lyla chapter, a final 'happy' Tim/Lyla chapter, a Tami/Eric and Matt/Julie chapter (combined) and then the final chapter, an epilogue, which is a character who we've seen in this fic but has never had a POV chapter. ;) Thanks for sticking with me through this thing, its been fun writing.

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He sits on the sidelines, looking over at his best friend. "You probably shouldn't be feeding him hot dogs, he barely has teeth."

"My boys are fine." Tim passes over a bit of smashed up hot dog to Will, who scarfs it down, making happy baby sounds and reaching for more. He looks sideways at Xavier, who is fiddling with the wheel of the wheelchair. "Might want to make sure your brake is set."

He glances down at the boy, rolling his eyes and picking him up, setting him on his knees. There's a steady pressure, which has him smiling, because it's just more of a sign that his feeling is coming back to his legs. Xavier leans back, looking up and grinning, showing off a few baby teeth.

"They look too much like you," he comments before looking back to the field. "You know I hear Billy's coaching well."

"One state championship," he answers, lifting up Will into the air when the Panthers score a touchdown. The baby screeches, kicking his feet. He lowers him back down to his knees. "The one thing Billy can't handle is the Boosters." He puts Will on the ground, holding onto his hands as the almost ten-month old starts practically dancing in place.

"I still can't believe they gave him the job."

"More than enough people bitched about it." He lets go of Will's hand, reaching for Xavier, who is whining. He jumps up, yelling down at the ref. "What the hell is that call! That was clearly pass interception!"

"Timmy sit down," he says idly. He looks at Xavier and then around. "Where's the other one?"

Tim yells for Will. "William Buddy Riggins, get back here."

The baby pauses, halfway to field and then giggles, shoving his fingers into his mouth and plopping down in the grass.

He rolls his eyes, looking out onto the field and the blue and white jerseys. He scans the tops of their helmets, finally spying 33, lined up as the lone tailback. The ball snaps and 33 gets the ball, taking off down the side and getting twenty yards before getting tackled. "Nice, nice!" he calls out.

"So how's Noah and the other one?"

"My daughter you mean? Allison. She's fine, she's trying out for cheerleading."

"That's nice."

"That's all you have to say about my kids?"

He shrugs. "How's the redhead?"

"Erin." He should be used to this by now, but it still annoys him sometimes, until he just realizes this is how his best friend is and what it means to be best friends with one of the most oblivious people in the universe. "She's fine." He glances sideways. "You doing alright?"

"Five years." He's quiet again, focused on the field. His eyes are hidden by sunglasses, his hair shorter, but his beard is back. He throws his hands up again. "What are you doing ref!?" He pushes Xavier onto the ground. "Be right back."

"Tim no! Come on! It's just a yellow flag!"

He laughs to himself, holding Xavier and keeping an eye on Will, who is still sitting in place on the grass. He looks down at Xavier, who is frowning. "Daddy's going to get thrown out of the game."

Sure enough, after protesting too much, the ref calls another penalty for game interference and throws him from the sidelines. "Well that sucked," he comments, sitting down again, Will in his lap. He shakes his head. "This is ridiculous, they're intentionally calling penalties on the Panthers."

"Maybe if you shut up and let the game play."

"Yeah, whatever."

He has to laugh at it all, holding one of the twins, glancing back at the field. "How'd they let this happen?"

"How what?"

"How'd they let this happen, you know, this whole thing?"

"Oh, yeah, Buddy made a phone call." He smiles sadly at the memory.

They sit in silence a little longer. He finally smiles. "You're still my best friend Riggins."

"I'm your only friend." He grabs Will and Xavier around their waists, standing and whooping when the Panthers win. He kicks the side of his chair. "Come on, let's go." He yells some more, running down to the field and setting the twins in the grass, grabbing 33 by the waist and throwing her up into the air. "That's my girl!"

He laughs, wheeling over and watching the boys while Ly throws off her helmet, her dark braid falling over her shoulder. She giggles, kicking her feet to get down. "Daddy put me down!"

"You had some bad calls, but Daddy got over them. Nice rushing stats though baby girl, but we need to work on your tackles." Ly proceeds to slam her shoulder into his knees. "Ow, but nice."

"You're not going to become one of those fathers are you Timmy?" he asks, hugging and kissing Ly's cheek. "Good job Lyanna."

"Thank you Uncle Jason." She picks up one of the twins, holding him almost upside-down. "Can we get ice cream Daddy?"

"First we have to stop and get Mommy and Rosie. Xavier Eric get that out of your mouth kid." He picks up the other twin, who is spitting grass out of his mouth. "Um, can you…"

"Yeah." He saves Will from head injury by taking him carefully from Ly. "So Ly you were pretty good out there."

"Like Daddy?" she asks, her eyes widening, picking up her helmet and trotting to keep up with them back to the car. "Did you play football with him Uncle Jason?"

"I did and we were the best."

"Don't tell that to Smash next time you see him."

"Daddy how come you're not like Uncle Smash? He plays on TV."

"Because I'm too good. We can't tell that to Uncle Smash. His ego can't stand it." Ly screws up her face, not understanding. "Ah, look, the car, here we are."

He rolls his eyes, waiting until Tim gets Xavier in his carseat before passing over Will. He rolls to the other side, opening the door and taking a deep breath, jerking himself up into the passenger side seat. "Timmy! Get my chariot."

"Yeah, yeah."

He turns in his seat, frowning at Xavier gumming on the car keys. "Hey, Ly, can you get those from your brother?"

"He's so gross," she comments, taking the drooly keys and wiping them on her pant leg before handing them back. She frowns. "What's that keychain Uncle Jason?"

He takes the keys, passing them to Tim, who climbs up into the SUV. "That's something your Daddy can explain."

Tim runs his fingers over the six links on the keychain, staring out the windshield for a minute. He leans forward, starting the car and glances over his shoulder. "One day baby, I'll tell you, I promise."

"Whatever," Ly decides, reaching forward and taking her electronic game from the floor. She pipes up a few seconds later over the sound of the game. "Uncle Jason do you think Daddy is crazy?"

He laughs, shaking his head and glancing over at his best friend, who is just smiling. "More than anyone else in the world, Lyanna."

"I think he's crazy."

"No one asked for your opinion," Tim yells over the sound of the game. He shakes his head. "You know who is crazy Ly? This guy. He moved all the way to New York City from Dillon, can you believe that?"

He has to smile and can't stop laughing when Lyanna says the words he's waiting for her to say.

"Texas Forever Uncle Jason."


	24. High

A/N: Wanted to say thanks again for the reviews. There's only three more chapters after this one :)

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"Okay, girl's night has officially commenced and Mindy you are the designated driver so go…" she trails off, already seeing her sister bounding after some old friends of her from the Landing Strip. "Wild."

"This probably…maybe I should go back to the house." Lyla is already looking at her cell phone, which she immediately snatches, sending a quick text. "What did you do?" She looks at the text. "Oh Tyra!"

"Tim understands, trust me." She takes the phone again, putting it into her purse. She plans on getting Lyla to finally let loose. She spins around, her arms in the air. "We are not married tonight, we are not mothers tonight, we are Tyra and Lyla, two very hot girls who want a good time, okay? Okay, now, let's get you a drink." She leans over the bar, smacking it hard. "Hey! Bartender, four shots of Patron."

"I hate tequila, can't I just have some wine?"

"No wine, we're drinking hard tonight. Now, you do know the lime, salt, and shot process right?" she asks, taking the tray of limes and the shaker of salt. Her eyebrow lifts. "Right?"

"I did go to college Tyra." Lyla expertly does the routine, slamming back both shots in record time. She gasps. "Oh my God! That's horrible." Her eyes suddenly light up. "More."

She finishes her shot, calling for a couple more. By the time she's got her third shot lifted to her lips, Lyla is already done with both of hers. Her eyes widen, watching Lyla whoop and then run off onto the dance floor.

Mindy comes up behind her. "What did you give her?"

"Four shots in like five seconds, what the hell is wrong with her?"

"Oh sweetie you don't know do you?" her sister laughs, reaching for her drink and slurping up the pink stuff in her glass. She giggles. "Lyla Garrity and Tim have more in common than you think. Good luck."

Well, it's good, she thinks, getting two beers in case Lyla gets thirsty. She knows that her newfound friend's been in a serious case of exhaustion for the last two years. Dealing with all the crap she'd had to deal with…anyone would need a night out.

"Whoo that's a good song, I just love to dance!" The other woman immediately starts chugging her beer, waving it up. "Another!" She giggles, leaning over. "I bet you didn't know that I can drink."

"Actually, I'm thinking you're not drinking enough." She laughs, leaning back when Lyla just starts giggling, barely able to sit on the barstool. Uh oh, maybe she is going overboard. "Okay, well…have fun."

"Come dance with me!"

What the hell, she thinks, finishing her beer and rushing off, dumping her purse with Mindy. She needs a vacation, hell, she's got an entire three months off since she's a teacher. Landry can deal with the girls tonight, she thinks, spinning in circles and laughing.

The night goes on and at some point she loses Lyla, but hell, she's a doctor. She can take care of herself, she thinks, falling onto a barstool next to Mindy. "Wow," she exclaims, fanning herself. "Water, I need water!"

"You definitely do, time to start sobering up," Mindy says, passing her a bottle. She nods to the dance floor. "Where's Dr. Riggins?"

"I thought she hyphenated."

"She changes it every damn day."

Huh, she doesn't know where…oh, there she is, she thinks, getting up and bringing another bottle of water towards Lyla, who is coughing. "Hey are you…oh my God." The sweet smoky scent is unmistakable.

Lyla giggles. "Hi Tyra!" She rubs her throat. "My throat hurts."

"Oh…my…" she grabs the other woman by the upper arm, yanking her out the back door near the bathrooms. She stares at two guys who are approaching them. "Hey," she snaps, jerking her thumb inside. "Beat it."

"Whoa, whoa, chill out. Just wanted to see if you wanted to get a drink?" the one guy says. He looks like a damn high school student.

"You sell my friend anything?" she demands, letting go of Lyla after propping her against the wall. She places her hands on her hips, rising up on her high heels so she's significantly taller than both guys. "Well? What did you sell her before I have to do this the hard way."

"Ooh, what's the hard way?"

She smiles, grinning and leaning forward before jerking both of them by the necks, throwing them into the brick wall. "That's the easy way, you still want to know what the hard way is?" she cocks her hip, her arms crossing, smiling again. "Because I've got all damn night. What did you sell my friend?"

"Just gave her a smoke, she wanted to try it, it's just pot!"

"Just pot!?" she yelps. She snaps her fingers at both assholes. "Get out of here before I call the cops." That's all they need, both of them running off. Crap, she thinks, picking Lyla back up. "Easy there tiger."

"Oh my God Tyra I feel so good!" she exclaims, stumbling back into the bar and yelling over the sound of the music. "I feel so free! I mean…I am always the good girl for once I want to be something else!" She stumbles out the front door, leaning back against the lamppost, finally spinning around it. "I want to sing and dance and run far, far away!"

She slumps against the lamppost, her eyes closed, her arms wrapped tight around it. She swallows, smacking her lips. "You know what Tyra?" she whispers.

"What?" she asks, sending Mindy a text telling her to hurry her ass up. They're at the whim of their designated driver. She reaches for Lyla, dragging her away from the parking lot towards an empty lot next to the bar, setting her down on a bench.

Lyla closes her eyes again, slouched down, her legs splayed out. "I have been nursing or pregnant for the last two years," she whispers. She sighs. "Do you know how tiring that is? It's like there's no stop to something. My dad has a heart attack, I come back to Dillon, I get pregnant by Tim Riggins of all people, and then two months after I pee on the stick I'm getting married to the guy."

"You know you didn't have to get married."

"I did because I was legitimately afraid my father would come after Tim with a shotgun." She sighs, waving her hands again. "Plus I'm pretty sure I'm in love with him. Right?"

She smiles, shrugging her shoulder. "Right." She cocks her head, her voice quiet. "Anything else Lyla? Why'd you smoke pot? You're a doctor."

"I wanted to be try it," the other woman says quietly, her eyes opening. She smiles, giggling and covering her face with her hands. "Oh my God. I'm drunk and I'm high. Wow."

"Yes, wow." She smiles again. "So how's Tim doing?"

"He's a drunk who hasn't had a sip of alcohol in a year." She turns her head, her voice slurring. "So how is it being married to Landry Clarke? How did that even happen anyway?"'

"It's a long story, but you and Tim kind of had something to do with it. I figured…being married to your best friend might be kind of nice and…and we weren't getting any younger and I didn't want to wait anymore, so we got married." She smiles, turning her head again. "And so far it's been…everything I thought."

"That's nice."

It's a very Tim answer, she thinks, smiling over and wondering if people think she's a bit more like Landry, now that they've been together as long as they have. She cocks her head. "You realize you sit like Tim, right?"

Lyla shakes her head, but still remains completely splayed out. "I developed some bad habits being with him." She smacks her lips again. "I love my life," she whispers, her voice thick. "I love my children. I love my husband. I love my job, but…"

There's always a but.

"But sometimes it's so exhausting that I just want to go to sleep and wake up somewhere else," she breathes, her eyes closing again.

She sits in silence, listening to the muffled sounds of the bar and the louder sounds from the street beside them. There really isn't much to talk about with a respected doctor turned high as a kite drunk.

Until Lyla drops a bombshell question.

"Did you sleep with Tim when you came back that first break? After he got out of prison?"

She chokes a little, unsure how the hell to answer such a question. Her eyes dart sideways, where Lyla's big dark ones are focused. The other woman doesn't seem mad, but…who the hell knew. "Um, why? Did he tell you?" Hell, that was over ten years ago, what did it matter now?

"He doesn't talk about it, I don't ask."

That seems like a healthy relationship, but she doesn't feel like getting into judging other people's relationships right now. Or ever, for that matter. She takes a deep breath, staring off into the distance. "He was sad Lyla. So yeah, I guess the answer is yes."

There's some more silence, as Lyla starts to wave her hands in front of her face slowly, following them. Her voice is quiet, but she doesn't look over. "I'm glad you helped him." She smiles goofily. "I'd have just made it worse."

God, I hope you don't remember any of this tomorrow, she thinks, biting her lower lip, her brow furrowing. "I don't think that's true."

"No, I think it's true. Thanks for…thanks." Lyla's quiet again. "I wish I was like you."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh you know, like in high school. You could do anything, you weren't scared. I was the perfect, perfect little girl. Now look at me. Married to a bad boy, back in Dillon…" Lyla stares at her hand. "Are there sparkly lights or is that me?"

"That's just you." How about that. Lyla Garrity of all people, wanting to be like her. She smiles a little to herself. My, how far you've come Tyra Collette, she thinks, looking down at her pretty wedding ring, turning it around on her left hand. She lifts an eyebrow. "You are so pathetic right now Lyla Garrity."

"I think I changed my last name. I can't remember." She snorts. "I am so drunk!"

"Very and it's pathetic. The Collette sisters are ashamed of you."

"I'm ashamed of me too." Lyla shifts on the bench, slamming her hands down suddenly. "I am so hungry. I want tacos."

"No tacos, you'll regret them in the morning." She sends Mindy another text, not wanting to get up and leave the infant alone to the wilds. This is quite a reversal, she thinks, tapping the phone on her knee, watching Lyla dig her fingers around in the dirt, drawing little pictures. She always wanted what Lyla had. Perfect family, perfect house, perfect future.

It's so funny what perspective does to you, she thinks, tapping her finger to her lips. She reaches and twirls a lock of hair around her finger. Now look at both of them.

The bar door bangs open, Mindy coming out waving the car keys. "Okay! I'm sober, let's get going! How are we going to sneak her in?"

"I was thinking the side door and just dump her on the bed and then move away."

They drive home as fast as Mindy can, parking the car outside the back door and smuggling her up the back staircase. Just when she thinks they're home-free, the bedroom door opens.

"Hey baby!" Lyla yells, falling against Tim. She giggles. "I love you."

"Wow, your breath…" Tim pushes her away, half holding onto her while she gets the other side and Mindy abandons both of them, the traitor. "What is wrong with her?" he demands.

Lyla laughs, jumping in the air, getting her second wind. "I'm high!" she yells. She spins around, giggling. "I want to dance!"

"You're what!?"

"She's just…stupid," she shoves her into the bedroom, slamming the door shut. "Okay, you get a shower, get dressed, I'll be in…in a second." She turns back around, going outside into the hall, facing down an angry Riggins. "Okay, look, she…"

"Why is my wife high? What did you do to her?"

"What did I do to her!? You seem to be forgetting Tim that your lovely little wife has a bad girl streak, otherwise she'd never have dated you." She crosses her arms over her chest. She suddenly feels defensive of Lyla. She shakes her hand through her hair. "Look Tim, I understand what she's going through. Maybe not exactly, but I do. She's tired, she needed a night on her own, and I did not get her the pot." She smiles. "Okay? Give her a break, she…she's coping the best she can."

He looks over her shoulder into the bedroom, frowning. "She say anything to you?"

She smiles, kissing his cheek, whispering into his ear. "Nothing I will share with you. Sisterhood Tim, we stick together." She pats his shoulder, cocking her head and grinning. "You can talk to Billy because I'm pretty sure that the guys who let her smoke the pot were football players."

She walks down the hall, into the bedroom, where Landry is strumming on the guitar. "Hey, what's going…" he begins, halting when she holds her hand up.

"BILLY!"

"Ah," she sighs, laughing and walking to the bed, collapsing beside him. "That was kind of nice."

"Do I want to know what that was about?"

"Not really, no." She rests her head on the pillow, her hand going to his knee. She waits a beat, lifting her head up. "You know…seeing some things really puts your life into perspective."

"You want to talk about it?"

She smiles, shaking her head. "No, I'm fine."

Downstairs something sounds like glass breaking. Landry lifts an eyebrow. "We are never spending another vacation here again."

She has to agree.


	25. Photograph

A/N: Okay so I decided to just add the last two chapters and take out one of the ones I was planning to add. This kind of serves the same purpose it did, so after this chapter, there's only the Epilogue :) And that is told from the POV of two characters who have popped up here and there, but we've not heard from and they're both in this chapter. ;) Enjoy! And thanks for the reviews!

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"Okay, so we have to line back up again," she says, closing her eyes when Gracie moans in frustration. She jabs a finger at her youngest daughter. "You, young lady, one day you will cherish this photo and you will love it and remember your youth with it, I do not want to hear you…who are you texting?"

She reaches for the phone, only to have Gracie snatch it back, her face flushing. That's weird. "Who is it Gracie Belle?"

"No one Mom."

"I'll take that." He reaches over her shoulder, snatching the phone and wagging it. "No more phone until we're done with this picture." He leans over to whisper into her ear. "So how much longer do we have to do this?"

"Step away from me," she says through clenched teeth, holding her hands out to the sides. She walks away from the porch, back down onto the lawn, clapping her hands again. "Okay! Let's line up again, Matt get Annie away from the pond please."

"She's fine." Matt glances back at her lifted eyebrow and immediately turns, walking towards the pond to get Annie away from it, where Ly Riggins is half hanging off the dock, God only knew what the tomboy was reaching for.

"Let me know if my kids are getting in the way," Tim says, walking by her with one of the twins in his arms covered head to toe in mud.

That's an understatement, she thinks. "They're getting in the way Timothy!" she yells.

He just waves his hand and goes back into the house with one of the mud-covered children, while she sees another running around with some other kid, she imagines it's another Riggins child. There's too many in this newest generation, she thinks, rubbing at her temples.

And I just wanted a pretty picture of my family, she sighs, going over to the photographer. "How much do you need if I get you to stay another hour?" she asks.

The photographer muses for a second. "Another hundred bucks and you have to promise to get a least fifty prints extra."

"Fine." She walks away and goes back to the beautiful arbor set up with roses cascading down, in front of a huge sycamore tree. The second she came out here last month for a surprise party for Billy getting the team another state championship, she had to have their family portrait taken out here. She really wants one, has for some time now.

So now that everyone is done with paintings, or writing another book, or college football season, she manages to get them out here for just one photo. It's all she wants.

Clapping her hands, she yells. "Okay y'all! Taylor-Saracen family, get over here now!"

"Hey Mom, um, we have a problem…." Julie trails off, cringing as Matt brings over Annie, whose face is colored in paint.

She covers her face, taking a deep breath and raking her fingers through her hair, plastering a smile to her face. "Sweetheart," she drawls, her hands going to her knees so she can lean forward. "What's that?"

"I put on makeup."

"That's not makeup sweetie, that's paint," Julie says, leaning forward as well, both of them staring down Annie, who just smiles. "Where did you get the paint?"

"In there." Annie points to the barn, smiling. "Ly put it on me."

"Of course she did," she whispers, straightening up. She bellows. "Tim Riggins get out here right now!"

A minute passes and he walks out onto the porch, his eyes wide, looking like he just got his hand caught in the cookie jar. "Ma'am?" he asks. "Uh…what's the problem?"

"Don't call me ma'am, I hate that, what kind of paint is this?"

He stares at Annie for a second. "Lyanna Melinda Riggins!" he bellows.

The little girl skulks around the corner, smiling weakly. "Hi Daddy."

"Don't you hi Daddy me."

She lets them deal with the paint mess, with Matt and Julie going with Annie, who is now protesting that she doesn't want the paint to come off because she likes it this way. "Where is Gracie?" she asks, seeing the empty chair where her youngest was sitting.

"Why don't we just cancel this thing? I know it's important, but…"

That's it! She's done. "Yes," she snaps, her hands on her hips. She reaches and jerks her sunglasses off. "Yes Eric it is important, it is important because my family is split in half, with three of them living in the wilds of Illinois and my Gracie Belle is in high school and you're working all the time not that that's not a bad thing, because both of our careers are in amazing places, but I want a family photo of the whole family so when I come home and you're working late and Gracie is ignoring me and my granddaughter is thousands of miles away and my daughter and my son-in-law say I'm smothering them…what is so funny?"

There he is, plain as day, hiding a laugh behind his hand, finally deciding to just smile and shake his head. "I love you Tami," he says, reaching for her, kissing her forehead and wrapping his arms tight. "And you are amazing."

"I just want a picture."

"And you will get your picture." He pulls away, patting her shoulders. "I'll go find out what's going on with Annie's face and you go find Gracie."

"Yeah," she laughs, patting his shoulder and waiting a beat before turning and walking up into the house. "Hey, Gracie?"

The front door opens. Her eyes light up. "Hey there Miss Lyla Garrity!"

"Hey! I didn't know if you guys would still be here!" Lyla hugs her quickly, smiling wide. "Is Steven here?"

"Steven?" She frowns. Who is that? There's too many to keep track.

"Steven, my nephew, I saw his car out front, I thought they had football practice today." Lyla reaches to pinch her nose, her voice calm. "I just got done with a 24-hour shift, I had three surgeries, and a fly-out to Austin for consultation, so I just want to know why does it say 'Arnett Mead Sucks' on my front yard?"

She looks over at the front yard and then back, smiling. "You'll have to talk to Tim."

"That's what I was afraid of." She waves out the front door. "Hey, looks like Tyra and Landry are here."

"What are they doing here?"

"Visiting Angela, she had surgery last week."

"Oh, okay." She waves at them as they climb out of the car. "I'm going to go find Gracie." She jogs up the stairs, going to the guest bedroom where Gracie usually spends most of her time. She doesn't bother knocking and walks in.

"Oh my God! Mom!"

The door slams shut immediately and she turns, covering her mouth with her hand. She bites the inside of her palm, stepping away as Gracie opens the door again, eyes wide. "Hi honey," she laughs, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Um…Steven."

"Mrs. Taylor."

"What do you want Mom?"

"I want you to come downstairs for the family portrait. Steven, don't you have to get to football practice?" she demands, glaring at the eldest of the second generation of Riggins who she has to admit is actually a really good kid. Wide receiver, straight-A student, and also got the attractive genes.

"Yes Mrs. Taylor, I'm just going to…bye Gracie."

"Bye." She smiles, loopy and leaning against the wall. Her eyes immediately lift up. "Sorry."

"Gracie he is two years younger than you!"

"He's a nice guy Mom."

"Let's get outside before your father finds out and kills Steven Riggins." They leave, going downstairs where Tyra's girls are already fighting with Rosie and Ly, who doesn't look any worse for the wear given whatever talk she'd gotten.

Julie walks up to her, shaking her head. "Annie's going to have to have a tiger face, we can't get the paint off, Lyla says she'll take us to the ER and use some sort of skin thing to get the paint off."

"What the hell kind of paint is it?"

"Some high industrial crap Tim uses in construction."

"What's it doing sitting around the house with his crazy children…hey y'all!" she exclaims, trailing off and laughing, reaching down to hug and kiss Hope and Joey Landry. "Hey girls, you look so grown-up!" She laughs and kisses Tyra. "Hey there girl, how are you?"

"Pretty good. What's with Annie's face?"

"Don't get me started." She grins wide again. "I'll see you guys in a minute, we're going to have to do this picture with Annie's face looking like a jack-o-lantern."

She walks off, pausing on the slope of the land down to the arbor and the sycamore tree, looking off at the pond and turning her head back to the house, seeing Landry talking with Tim, who is trying to hold one of the twins while the other crawls around their feet. She looks to Lyla who is trying to get paint off of Annie's face, Matt talking with Gracie and Billy and Mindy and Steven…

She walks towards the photographer. "Sorry to keep you waiting, but…I'm going to need one more minute."

And it takes less than a minute, before she gets everyone in the shot. It isn't perfect. She's smiling as wide as she can, with her husband next to her, and her strange little family all around.

When she hangs the portrait up, she steps back, smiling. It's definitely not the perfect one she envisioned, but something about this is much, much better. Annie's face is painted, both of the Riggins twins are kicking each other, Gracie is mooning over at Steven, Tyra's blowing a gum bubble, Landry's eyes are closed, Billy is writing something on his hand, and in general all the kids are not paying attention.

There's another she managed to get, with her perfect family, with Matt looking clueless, Julie looking at him, Gracie looking annoyed, and Annie with her painted face. "Hey," she says, seeing him coming into the office. She grins. "What's going on?"

He smiles, crossing his arms over his chest. "I have good news and…some interesting news."

"Let's start with good news," she says, her hands on his shoulders, smiling. "What's the good news?"

"I just got done with an interview. Assistant running back coach." He smiles. "UT hired Billy Riggins."

She smiles, her arms over her chest. "Wow."

"Yeah, wow. He did well in the interview, he's a good coach. So the interesting news…" He smiles a little. "There's an opening in Dillon now and I've been thinking of…retiring from college football."

Going back to Dillon. Where it all began.

"I'm not going to leave Austin yet," she says, quiet. She still has her career. She looks down at the floor. "I guess we're at an impasse."

"No, we're not," he says, tilting her chin up, smiling. "I have it on Tim's authority, as the unofficial but official voice, that when I want it, the job is there."

She runs her tongue over her teeth. That's…she shakes her head. "Yeah, but…whenever you want?"

"According to Tim. He talked to the Boosters, made them some offer they couldn't refuse. They will let me return, when we want." He wraps his arms around her, squeezing. "But this is about you. Just let me know when you want to go back and we will."

She looks around their house, which she thinks of as theirs. Their last home, she thinks. "What if we never go back?" she whispers.

He shrugs. "Then we never go back."

Sounds fair.

She looks up at the photo of everyone, shaking her head and smiling, lifting her face back to his. "I can stare at this thing for hours and still find something in it that's…"

"Insane?"

"Yes. Insane."

He frowns, looking at the picture. "Why is Gracie staring at Steven?"

She turns him away from the picture hanging in their front hall, pushing him towards the living room. "The question is…what are Julie and Matt going to do with Annie, who announced that she wants to play football."

His eyes light up. "Oh really?"

"Through no fault of your own, she's best friends with Lyanna Riggins who plays football and she wants to be like her."

"I don't know if I like our granddaughter best friends with a Riggins."

Well your other daughter is sort of dating one, but she doesn't say anything, rising on her toes to kiss his cheek. "I love you sweetheart." She pats his chest. "Come on, let's pick a movie. Gracie's going to be out all night."

"Why?"

She settles on the couch next to him, reaching for the television remote. "Oh," she sighs, smiling to herself. "No reason."


	26. Epilogue

A/N: This is it! The final chapter of this fic that was supposed to be about six chapters and ended up being twenty more :) Thanks to all the loyal reviewers, I greatly appreciate your comments/criticism. And yes this is the chapter from the POV of two characters we've seen before but have not quite heard from yet. Hope you like it! I wanted to do something different for the end :)

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There's a strange noise in the dark, it sounds kind of like a window opening. She shifts in bed, tugging her sheet up over her head, her eyelids flickering a little. Damn. There's light. You better not have a guy in here, she thinks, throwing down her sheet and staring across the room at her best friend in the whole world.

"What are you doing?" she hisses, sitting up in the trundle bed she stays in when she comes to visit. She's going to be visiting for a few weeks, before they go off to University of Texas at Austin together.

"I'm running away!"

"What!?"

Ly grins, her gray eyes dancing in the dim light from the flashlight in her hand and the lights outside from what she guessed was a truck driven by the former Dillon Panthers running back and resident bad boy, Stone MacCormick, one of her former teammates. She sits on the edge of the window seat, her hand on her knee. "Come on Annie, just cover for me, I was going to wake you up before I left."

"How the heck do you suppose I cover for you Lyanna?" She stresses her friend's real name, scowling. They're just eighteen, ready to go off and conquer the world. She's excited about it! Illinois is boring, Texas is fascinating. Her parents often joked she was born in the wrong state and was more Texan than either of them.

It was also nice to be going to school just four hours from her grandparents, with whom she spent a lot of her time. She sighs, raking her fingers through her hair, sending the blonde strands tumbling down her back.

They could not be more different.

Light, dark, night, day. She's shy, awkward, straight-A student, artsy, Annie Saracen. The girl no one ever really noticed, because she was neither popular or unpopular. Not sporty but good at sports. Not completely artsy but a decent painter and writer. Pretty, but not heart-stopping gorgeous.

Her best friend from childhood, on the other hand, is loud, always up for a party, drinks way too much, straight-A but didn't have to study to get them, intense, sporty, only popular because she was in football otherwise all the other girls couldn't stand her, and yes, with her deep gray eyes and her shiny dark brown hair, the heart stopping Lyanna Riggins.

"Come on," she mumbles, throwing back the covers. She goes to the window, leaning out and waving at Stone, whom she has to admit is gorgeous in that cowboy way. "She's going to be a minute!" she hisses out the window, before slamming it shut.

"Shh!" Ly exclaims, bouncing on the heels of her Army boots. "Do you know how light a sleeper my dad is!? He'll be in here in two seconds and I'll be dead for life."

"You're 18, what's Uncle Tim going to do to you?"

"You'd be surprised, he already says he doesn't care what the government says, I'm not an adult. Besides…" she sighs, dramatic, always dramatic. "I'm already his shame."

"You are not a shame, you are so dramatic." She takes the flashlight, flicking it off and reaching for the lamp on the nightstand, turning it on. Ly has her backpack, wearing her old Dillon Panthers 33 jersey with her favored army green leggings and her black Army boots, her long dark hair piled on top of her head, showing off her many ear piercings and the tattoo on the back of her neck of a growling Panther.

Every time she sees the thing, she cringes, because she can't imagine getting drunk enough to get a tattoo on your neck and still not be able to feel a thing. Let alone the fact that she was there when her aunt and uncle saw it and completely freaked out. How Ly survived that she doesn't know, because the one time she tried to bring up the idea of a tattoo, her mother about kept her locked in her room for a month.

Ly growls, reaching to fiddle with the gold chain on her neck, the three state rings clinking together. Grandfather, Father, Her, she tells people. So far the only person in Dillon with three generations of Texas State football champs. "I am not made for college," she says, her voice faraway. She smiles. "You are Annie."

"Ly…"

"No, it's good, here, sit down." She pushes her down onto the cot, sitting beside her, smiling. "I…I never studied and I got straight A's. If college is there in the future, I'll be fine. I…I want to get out of this town…I'm going to experience my life and have fun and do what my mom and dad never did." She blows out a hard breath. "Which is get the hell out of this place, no matter how much I love it."

She reaches to rub at her forehead. "You are the worst best friend," she mumbles. "You give me a headache."

"Sorry."

She lets her hands fall to her lap, her eyes closed. "Ly, seriously? This is not a good idea, where are you going to go? What about money?"

"I have money, I have my trust fund."

"You can't get all that."

"I got about $100,000 when I turned 18. It's more than enough." She looks down at her hands, picking at her black nail polish, her voice quiet. "I want to travel, I want to go to Europe and I want to go to New York. I could go to Los Angeles and stay with Joey Clarke…she's a singer out there. Or Hope, she's a social worker now. Or Aunt Tyra and Uncle Landry or I could go live with my Uncle Jason in New York or with Uncle Steven and Aunt Gracie in Miami…"

She holds up her hands, not really in the mood to hear about her Aunt Gracie and Uncle Steven living it up in Miami with the rest of the Miami Dolphins. "Yeah, okay. It doesn't matter though, what about your mom and dad?"

Ly picks at her fingernail. "My sister is their perfect child. She'll go to Vanderbilt next year like mom, she'll marry the high school boyfriend and be the newest doctor or lawyer or something else perfect like that." She rolls her eyes. "You're an only child, you wouldn't understand how…well, your dad loves you no matter what you do. The second I screw up, my dad is looking at me like he can't stand to be around me. I hate it. Then he looks at perfect Rosie and it's totally different."

"Come on Ly, it isn't like that with Rosie." To be honest, she can't stand Rosie, who is always tattling on them, always smug about how she could beat them at anything. It's annoying.

"No, no it is, and I'm fine with that." Ly looks off into the distance, out the window, shaking her head. Her voice is soft. "I'm just my mom and dad combined. Football player, only girl in the state of Texas to play starter for a state championship team…the girl that drinks too much, the girl who cheats on her boyfriend with the bad boy, the girl who gets almost pregnant…"

She rolls her eyes. Ly still doesn't seem to get that she was never pregnant. "That was a scare, you didn't get pregnant. It was a false positive."

"Doesn't matter, my mom and dad still let me know how disappointed they were." Ly gets up from the bed, going to pick up her backpack and set it on the window seat, looking back down at the truck, where Stone is urging her to climb down. She turns over her shoulder, smiling. "Besides, you're an only child, you can never disappoint your parents."

Yeah, but…that's because my parents are…she sighs, thinking about them. She kind of misses them. They're good parents. They just are a little…scattered is the best term she can think for them. She's more their best friend than their daughter, which she likes and it works for all three of them. Three Musketeers, that's what she calls the three of them. All for one and one for all.

"You don't disappoint them, stop saying that."

"If I didn't before, then I will when they find out I'm not going to college and I'm running away with my boyfriend."

She reaches for Ly again, hugging her once more, her voice quiet. She's always been the voice of reason. Every hothead needs the calm and steady one. "I think they'll understand if you tell them. If you just run away, you could be ruining it forever and you don't want to do that."

Ly hesitates. She turns her head away from the window. "You think?"

"Oh I know." She cocks her head, all-knowing. "You won't be able to forgive yourself and your mom and dad deserve to know your feelings, because I know you think they can't stand your choices, they love you and they just want what's best for you." She shrugs. "We're not parents but I think that's what most parents want for their kids. You run away and all you're doing is just showing your mom and dad that you are the disappointing kid, too scared to tell them how you feel."

There. If that doesn't work, she doesn't know what will short of tackling Ly to the floor.

She sighs, looking back down at the truck. "Damnit."

Yes, she won this one, she thinks, smiling and pulling the window back open as Ly hisses down at Stone. It proceeds into a full on fight, with Ly saying she hates him and will never love him again.

Until tomorrow, because she can't even count the number of times she's heard Ly say she hates Stone and will never love him again.

"Asshole," she comments, slamming the window closed. "So stupid, thinking you can find the love of your life at 16."

She smiles, glancing sideways. "Your mom and dad did. My mom and dad certainly did, they're disgusting with how much they still hold hands and kiss and giggle. Makes me want to puke."

"Your grandparents are worse. Since they moved back to Dillon I've seen more of them than I ever did as a kid."

"Yeah they're gross with the PDA too."

Ly looks sideways from her bed, propping her head up on her hand. "I'm sorry I'm not going to UT."

Annie just looks up at the ceiling, shrugging. "I kind of am too, but…you need to be yourself."

"My dad says I'm too much like him," she whispers, rolling onto her back. "He says I never seemed happy here, even if I was always the happiest on the football field." She lets her hand fall to the bed. "It just turns out that no matter how good the girl, she still can't play football in college or anything." She hits her head back on the pillow. "And I don't know what to do with my life without that."

"You just need time."

"Yeah, I guess." She blows out a breath. "Okay. I'm going to go talk to them."

"What? It's like one in the morning!"

"Best time to talk to my parents is when they're waking up from a dead sleep. It's how I told them about X and Will being the ones who brought the cows into the field house, remember that?"

"If I remember, you were drunk when you did it, your mom thought it was a dream, your dad wasn't even awake, and X and Will were able to then blame it on two other kids who had no idea what was going on. They still don't know!"

"Same difference." She gets off the window seat, leaving with a smile, the door closing behind her.

Oh boy, this is going to be interesting. She rolls over the side of her cot, reaching for her phone and quickly dialing a number, waiting for it to ring a few times before her father's sleepy voice comes over the line. "Lo'?"

"Who is it?"

"I don't know."

"Well find out, it's one in the morning."

"Will you let me talk?"

She twirls a lock of hair around her finger, waiting for both of her parents to finish their friendly bickering. "Don't mind me, I'm just your daughter, the light of your life, locked away in a house of horrors with my best friend who is now telling her mom and dad she's running away with her boyfriend and not going to UT with me, so…..just wanted to talk to you, let you know how awesome your only baby is."

"What? Who is this?"

"Dad, oh my God!"

"Annie!" her dad laughs on the other line. "Hey what's going on? Are you okay? It's one in the morning."

She sighs, shaking her head and smiling to herself. "Okay. I love you Daddy. Just wanted to say that. Is Mom there?"

"Yeah, she's here." Her dad pauses. "Wait, did you just say your best friend is running away?"

"Hey Mom!" she exclaims, when the phone shuffles a few times and then her mother's nervous voice comes on. She grins. "I'm fine, I'm okay, I just…Ly's going thorugh some stuff I wanted to talk to you. Just let you know that you're great parents and I love you guys."

There's silence. Then her mother is laughing. "Okay. Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine. Just wanted to hear your voices." She lifts her head when a door slams and she hears Ly yelling, followed almost immediately by her Uncle Tim. "Uh oh, sounds like there's a development."

"Let me know what happens and if you need to, call Gigi and Poppa. They can handle the Riggins, all generations of them."

"Okay. Love you."

"Love you too."

She tosses her phone aside, walking towards the door and stepping into the hall, where Ly crashes back into the room. "God, I hate them both," Ly mumbles, collapsing onto her bed. She reaches into her nightstand, removing a flask. "You want a sip."

"No thanks, I'm good."

"Sure? It's whiskey."

"Yeah, as I said, I'm good."

"Suit yourself." She sits on the bed for a few minutes in silence, shaking her head and smiling, a tear tracking its way down her cheek. "They told me to go."

"What?" She goes to sit beside her friend, her arm going over her shoulders. "What did they say?"

Ly sniffs, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing her eyeshadow and mascara. "I woke them up, told them what I was going to do, and then my dad…he told me to go. If I wanted to go, they weren't going to fight it. Mom even said she'd give me money if I wanted it. Dad said he was done trying to force me to be what they wanted. So they're letting me go." She laughs. "I almost don't want to go now because they want me to leave and do what I want."

"Isn't that a good thing? They're letting you live your dream." She smiles, thinking of her parents. They let her get in her car and drive to Texas. They let her give up the Art Institute of Chicago and Northwestern and the University of Chicago to come to Texas, the state they both left behind because it wasn't for them. They love her, they let her go.

Now so were Ly's. "It's really scary, isn't it?" she whispers, glancing sideways, grinning. "You have the whole world Ly. We both do."

Ly smirks, lifting an eyebrow. "We do?"

"Yes. Best friends forever, right? Even if you run off with Stone to Paris or Africa and I'm still at UT…we could be a world away and I'll still be your best friend."

Ly chuckles, looking down at her hands, fiddling with her various rings and then smiling wide, lifting her head up. "I know you're from Illinois and your grandpa has that saying about clear eyes and everything, but we have a saying here in the Riggins house."

She smiles. "Yeah, I know."

They both bump their knuckles together. Lyanna grins wide. "Texas Forever."

Annie giggles. "Texas Forever."


End file.
